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THE 



FARMER'S BOY; 

A RURAL POEM. 




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THE 



FARMER'S BOY; 



a ftural g oera. 



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By ROBERT BLOOMFIELD. 



" A SHEPHERD^ BOY. ...HE SEEKS NO bettername/ 



THE EIGHTH EDITION. 



LONDON: 



PRINTED FOR VERNOR AND HOOD, POULTRY £ 
AND LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, 
PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
By J. Swan, Printer, 76, Fleet Stp 

1805. 

<1 




ADVERTISEMENT, 



THE AUTHOR. 



Hitherto the biographical narrative, as given originally 
by my brother, in letters to my good friend Mr. Lofft, 
has gone undisturbed, 1 hough I have often doubted the ac- 
curacy of the dates, the facts themselves remain unimpeach- 
able. 1 had, indeed, convinced my brother, that he inad- 
vertently mis-stated my age, on coming to London ; and, by 
my wish, the reader was told, in the preface to the former cdi- 
.. tions, that my juvenile pieces, there referred to, and of which 
fragments are given, were written in the year 1784. As I cer- 
tainly transgressed in rhyme from the age of fifteen years and a 
half until twenty, writing pieces of various descriptions, the 
doubt on my mind was, whether my brother, ivho saw them all, 
could tell, any more than myself, on being questioned fourteen 
years after the time, at what particular date the pieces were 
actually written or published, which he had mentioned to Mr. 
Lofft ; for I well remember, more than once, to have received 
the sentence of, 4 * R. B. is inadmissible " 

To satisfy my curiosity, and arrive at the truth, I have 
examined the files of old newspapers, as they are preserved at 
Peel's Coffee-house, Fleet-street ; beginning with 1784; at 
ivhich time, in my seventeejith year, I supposed them to have 
been written. My trouble was repaid, by finding the objects of 
my search under the date o/"1786. Whatever merit or puerility 
may be found in the pieces I have thus unexpectedly regained, 
and ivhich I had endeavoured to recollect, they appear to 
B 



ADVERTISEMENT. 

have been written, or at least published, between the ages of 
nineteen and twenty; and, consequently, any reader of taste 
will believe, on perusing them, that they are here given to the 
world, more from the love of truth than the love of praise; and 
will, at the same time, observe, that the copy of " A Village 
Girl,'" as given from memory by my brother, was net quite 
correct, 

I lay dozen all reputed juvenile excellence with infinite satis- 
faction; and, though some may blame this kind of self exposure , 
] can make up the account to my own conscience, and am deter- 
mined to believe, that, whatever different opinions may be en- 
tertained as to the nature and proper limits of biography, to 
rectify mistakes is to do right ; and to tell truth, the first duty 
of us all. 

If it should be asked, why I did not make the search before 
the publication of the " Farmer's Boy" I answer, that I did 
well to trust to the kind hand which was about to lift me from 
obscurity and distress; that I had then no doubt of the accu- 
racy of the dates, nor the least knowledge that such newspapers 
were any where in existence ; and, lastly, 1 had not then a Cof- 
fee-house coat to my back, to carry me through the enquiry. 

There will be found in these little pieces, obscurities and bad 
grammar, they are exact copies from the papers, and as [ wrote 
them ; except in the instances marked at the foot of each piece, 
the editors of the papers not thinking it worth thtir while to 
correct them. The reader will recognise in them the '* provin- 
cial usage" mentioned by Air. Lofft, at page xvi. of the follow- 
ing preface. 



A VILLAGE GIRL*. 

Hail, May ! lovely May ! how replenish' d my pails! 

The young Dawn o'erspreads the broad east, streak'd with 
gold! 
My glad heart beats time to the laugh of the vales, 

And Colin's voice rings through the wood from the fold. 

The wood to the mountain submissively bends, 

Whose blue misty summit first glows with the sun ! 

See ! thence a gay train by the wild rill descends 

To join the mix'd sports :....Hark ! the tumult's begun. 

Be cloudless, ye skies!. ...And be Colin but there; 

Not dew-spangled bents on the wide level dale, 
Nor Morning's first smile can more lovely appear 

Than his looks, since my wishes I cannot conceal. 

Swift down the mad dance, while blest health prompts to move, 
We'll count joys to come, and exchange vows of truth; 

And haply, when age cools the transports of love, 
Decry, like good folks, the vain follies of youth. 

R. B. 



* Copied from " Say's Gazetted" for Wedne day, May 24, 1786. 
t The original word was <•' count," to reckon on it, to tnjoy by an* 
ticipation. The printer changed it to eoi.rt. 



Hound Libya's soutli point, when from toils so late freed. 
Sweet Hope cheer'd my soul, whilst we clear'd the rough 
sea; 

I strove, midst the tars, to improve the ship's speed, 
]S T or thought I of ought * but Anna and thee. 

Here comes the dear girl ! comes with kind arms extended 
To welcome me. Limbs numb'd with age, fain would 
move ; 

My cheek feels the flow* of rapture warm blended, 
With answering drops ; this the meed of chaste love. 

Come, friends, rouse the fire; joy enlivens each face ; 

The wild banks of Ganges ne'er feel a keen blast, 
Yet, who'd not return to love, parents, and peace, 

And hope to possess them as long as life last ! 

Nov. 6th, 1786. t> r> 



* The above lines were suggested by the return of some regiments 
from the East In !ies, as the ver e themselves wiil evince. The 
word "fljw," was substituted by the edi'o: of the pa^ei, for the origi- 
nal word ' 4 offspring." This I remembered, anj gave the original in 
the fragment I sent to Mr. Lcfft. But, in the 4th stmza, the o.iginal 
word had e caped all recol cction, until this unexpected sight of the 
piece, and of its connection, so that if " hardships" be read for " ought," 
all the meaning I had will be seen. I perfectly remember feeling rather 
j ndignanr, at seeing myself so badly corrected ; and this feeling, peihaps, 
engraved those trifles on my mind much deeper than they deserved. 

March 2, i8oj. 

ROBERT BLOOMFIELD. 



PREFACE. 



Having the satisfaction of introducing to the 
Public this very pleasing and characteristic Poem, 
The Farmer's Boy, I think it will be agreeable 
to preface it with a short Account of the manner 
in which it came into my hands: and, which 
will be much more interesting to every Reader, 
a little History of the Author, which has been 
communicated to me by his Brother, and which 
I shall very nearly transcribe as it lies before me. 

In November last year* I received a MS. which 
I was requested to read, and to give my opinion of 
it. It had before been shown to some persons in 
London ; whose indifference toward it may proba- 
bly be explained when it is considered that it came 
to their hands under no circumstances of adventi- 
tious recommendation. With some a person must 
be rich, or titled, or fashionable as a literary name, 
or at least fashionable in some respect, good or bad, 
before any thing which he can offer will be thought 
worthy of notice. 

I had been a little accustomM to the effect of 
prejudices : and I was determined to judge, in the 

* This was written in 1799. L 



ii PREFACE. 

0T1 ly j ust and reasonable way,, of the Work, by the 
Work itself. 

At first, I confess, seeing it divided into the 
four Seasons, I had to encounter a prepossession 
not very advantageous to any writer: that the 
Author was treading in a path already so admi- 
rably trod by Thomson; and might be adding 
one more to an attempt already so often, but so in- 
judiciously and unhappily made, of transmuting 
that noble Poem from Blank Verse into Rhyme ; . . . 
from its own pure native Gold into an alloyed 
Metal of incomparably less splendor, perma- 
nence, and worth. 

I had soon, however, the pleasure of finding 
myself reliev'd from that apprehension : and of 
discovering, that, although the delineation of Ru- 
ral Scenery naturally branches itself into these 
divisions, there was little else except the gene- 
ral qualities of a musical ear, flowing numbers, 
Feeling, Piety, poetic Imagery, and Animation, 
a taste for the picturesque, a true sense of the 
natural and pathetic, Force of Thought, and 
Liveliness of Imagination, which were in com- 
mon between Thomson and this Author. And 
these are qualities which whoever has the eye, 
the heart, the awakened and surrounding intel? 
lect, and the diviner sense of the Poet, which 
alone can deserve the name, must possess. 




W PREFACE. iii 

But, with these* general Characters of true 
Poetry, " The Farmer s Boy' has, as I have said, a 
character of its own. It is discriminated as 
much as the circumstances and habits, and situ- 
ation, and ideas consequently associated, which 
are so widely diverse in the two Authors, could 
make it different. Simplicity, sweetness, a na- 
tural tenderness, that molle at que facet urn which 
Horace celebrates in the Eclogues of Virgil, 
will be found to belong to it. 

I intend some farther and more particular 
Critical Remarks on this charming Perform- 
ance. But I now pass to the Account of the 
Author himself, as given me by his Brother:... 
a Man to whom also I was entirely a stranger:... 
but whose Candor, good Sense, and brotherly 
Affection, appear in this Narrative; and of the 
justness of whose Understanding, and the Good- 
ness of his heart, I have had many Proofs, in 
consequence of a correspondence with him on 
different occasions which have since arisen, 
when this had made me acquainted with him, 
and interested me in his behalf. 

In writing to me, Mr. George Bloomfield, 
who is a Shoemaker also, as his Brother, and 
lives at Bury, thus expresses himself. 

** As I spent near six years with the Author, 
from the time he was fourteen years and a half 



it PREFACE. 

old- till he was turned of twenty, the most in- 
teresting time of life (I mean the time that in- 
struction is acquir'dj if acquir'd at all),, I think I 
am able to give a better account of him than any 
one can, or than he can of himself: for his Mo- 
desty would not let him speak of his Temper, 
Disposition, or Morals. 

" Robert was the younger Child of George 
Bloom field, a Taylor at HoNiNGTONf. His 
Father died when he was an infant under a 
year old J. His Mother was a schoolmistress, 
and instructed her own children with the others. 
He thus learnM to read as soon as he learn'd to 
speak. 

"Though the Mother was left a Widow with 
six small Children, yet with the help of Friends 
she managed to give each of them a little school- 
ing. 

"Robert was accordingly sent to Mr. Rod- 
well !j, of Ixworth, to be improved in Writing: 

* Here, and elsewhere through the narrative, the true dates 
are introduced according to the foregoing "Advertisement." 

t This Village is between Fusion and Troston, and about 
eight miles N. E. of Bury. There are three other sons; 
George, Nathaniel, and Isaac : and two Daughters. L. 

+ Our Author was born, as his Mother lias obligingly in- 
formed me, 3 Dec. 1766. L. 

|| This respectable Man is senior Clerk to the Magi- 
strates of tbe Hundred of Blacrbourn, in which Honingtoit 



PREFACE. v 

but he did not go to that School more than two or 
three months, nor was ever sent to any other; 
his Mother again marrying when Robert was 
about seven years old. 

"By her second Husband, John Glover, she 
had another Family. 

"When Robert was not above eleven years 
old, the late Mr. W. Austin, of Sapiston*, took 
him. And though it is customary for Farmers 
to pay such Boys only Is. 6d. per week, yet he 
generously took him into the house. This re- 
lieved his Mother of any other expence than only 
of finding him a few things to wear : and this 
was more than she well knew how to do. 

" She wrote therefore/' Mr. O. Bloomfield 
continues, " to me and my brother Nat (then 
in London), to assist her; mentioning that Ro- 
bert was so small of his age that Mr. Austin 
said he was not likely to be able to get his living 
by hard labour." 

Mr. G. Bloomfield on this inform'd his Mo- 
ther that, if she would let him take the Boy with 
him, he would lake him, and teach him to make 
shoes: and Nat promised to clothe him. The 

is situated, and has conducted himself with great propriety 
in this and other public employments. L. 

* This little Village adjoins to Honing ton. L. 



vi PREFACE. 

Mother, upon this offer, took coach and came to 
London, to Mr. G. Bloom field, with the Boy: 
for she said, she never should have been happy 
if she had not put him herself into his hands. 

" She charg'd me," he adds, " as 1 valued a 
Mothers Blessing, to watch over Mm, to set good 
Examples for him, and never to forget that he had 
lost his Father'' I religiously confine myself to 
Mr. G. Bloomfield's own words; and think I 
should wrong all the parties concerned, if in men- 
tioning this pathetic and successful Admonition, 
I were to use any other. He came from Mr. 
Austin's 29 June 1781*. 

Mr. G. Bloomfield then lived at Mr. Simiris, 
No. 7> Pitcher s- court, Bell-alley, Coleman-street. 
" It is customary," he continues, " in such houses 
as are let to poor people in London, to have light 
Garrets fit for Mechanics to work in. In the 
Garret, where we had two turn-up Beds, and five 
of us worked, I received little Robert. 

" As we were all single Men, Lodgers at a 
Shilling per week each, our beds were coarse, 
and all things far from being clean and snug, 
like what Robci't had left at Sapiston. Robert 
was our man, to fetch all things to hand. At 

* This date of his coming to Town is added by Mr. 

&LOOMFIELD hixQSelf. 



PREFACE. yii 

Noon he fetch'd our Dinners from the Cook's 
Shop : and any one of our fellow workmen that 
wanted to have any thing fetched in, would send 
him, and assist in his work and teach him, for a 
recompense for his trouble. 

" Every day when the Boy from the Public 
house came for the pewter pots, and to hear what 
porter was wanted, he always brought the yes- 
terday's Newspaper. The reading of the Paper 
we had been us'd to take by turns ; but after Ro- 
bert came, he mostly read for us,.. .because his 
time was of least value. 

" He frequently met with words that he was 
unacquainted with : of this he often complained. 
I one day happen'd at a Book-stall to see a small 
Dictionary, which had been very ill us'd. I 
bought it for him for 4d. By the help of this 
he in little time could read and comprehend the 
long and beautiful speeches of Burke, Fox, or 
North. 

" One Sunday, after a whole day's stroll in 
the country, we by accident went into a dissent- 
ing Meeting-house, in the Old Jewry, where a 
Gentleman was lecturing. This Man filPd Ro- 
bert with astonishment. The House was ama- 
zingly crowded with the most genteel people: 
and though we were fore'd to stand in the aisle, 
and were muchpress'd, yet Robert always quick- 



viii PREFACE. 

enM his steps to get into the Town on a Sunday 
evening soon enough to attend this Lecture. 

"The Preacher's name was Fawcet*. His 
language was just such as the Rambler is written 
in; his Action like a person acting a Tragedy; 
his Discourse rational, and free from the Cant 
of Methodism. 

" Of him Robert learned to accent what he 
call'd hard words ; and otherwise improved him- 
self; and gainM the most enlarg'd notions of 
Providence. 

" He went sometimes with me to a Debating 
Society at Coachmakers-hall, but not often; and 
a few times to Covent-garden TJicaiie. These are 
all the opportunities he ever had to learn from 
Public Speakers. As to Books, he had to wade 
through two cr three Folios: an History of Eng- 
land, British Traveller, and a Geography. But he 
always read them as a task; or to oblige us who 
bought them. And as they came in sixpenny 
numbers weekly, he had about as many hours to 
read as other boys spend in play. 

"I at that time read the London Magazine; 
and in that work about two sheets were set apart 
for a Rev ieiv.... Robert seemM always eager to read 
this Review. Here he could see what the Literary 

* Author of ;i justly-esteem'd Poem on War. L. 



PREFACE. ix 

Men were doing, and learn how to judge of the 
merits of the Works that came out. And I ob- 
served that he always looked at the Poet's Corner. 
And one day he repeated a Song which he com- 
posed to an old tune. I was much surpris'd that 
he should make so smooth verses: so I persuaded 
him to try whether the Editor of our Paper would 
give them a place in Poet's Corner. And he suc- 
ceeded, and they were printed. And as I for- 
get his other early productions, I shall copy 
this*. 

" I remember," says Mr. G. Bloomfield, 
continuing his Narrative, " a little piece which 
he called the Sailor s Return f: in which he tried 
to describe the feelings of an honest Tar, who, 
after a long absence, saw his dear native Village 
first rising into view. This too obtained a place 
in the Poet's Corner. 

" About this time there came a Man to lodge 
at our Lodgings that was troubled with fits. Ro- 
bert was so much hurt to see this poor creature 
drawn into such frightful forms, and to hear his 
horrid screams, that I was forced to leave the 
Lodging. We went to Blue Flart-court, Bell-alley. 
In our new Garret we found a singular character, 

* See " Village Girl," in the Advertisement, 
t " Soldier's Return," see Advertisement. 



x PREFACE. 

James Kay } a native of Dundee. He was a mid- 
dle-aged man, of a good understanding, and yet 
a furious Calvinist. He had many Books,... and 
some which he did not value: such as the Sea- 
sons, Paradise Lost, and some Novels. These 
Books he lent to Robert ; who spent all his lei- 
sure hours in reading the Seasons, which he was 
now capable of reading. I never heard him 
give so much praise to any Book as to that. 

"I think it was in the year 1/84 that the 
Question came to be decided between the jour- 
neymen Shoemakers; whether those who had learned 
without serving an Apprenticeship could follow the 
Trade. 

" The Man by whom Robert and I were em- 
ployed, Mr. Chamberlayne, of Cheapside, took an 
active part against the lawful journeymen; and, 
even went so far as to pay off every man that 
worked for him that had joinM their Clubs. This 
so exasperated the men, that their acting Com- 
mittee soon look'd for unlawful men (as they called 
them) among Chamberlayne s workmen." 

They found out little Robert, and threatened 
to prosecute Chamberlayne for employing him ; 
and to prosecnte his Brother, Mr. G. Bloomjield, 
for teaching him. Chamberlayne requested of 
the Brother to go on and bring it to a Trial; for 



PREFACE. xi 

that he would defend it; and that neither George 
nor Robert should be hurt. 

In the mean time George was much insulted 
for having refus'd to join upon this occasion 
those who call'd themselves, exclusively, the 
Lawful Crafts. George, who says he was never 
famM for patience, (it is not indeed so much as 
might be sometimes wishM, very often the lot of 
strong and acute minds to possess largely of this 
virtue,) took his pen, and address'd a Letter to 
one of the most active of their Committee-men 
(a man of very bad character.) In this, after 
stating that he took Robert at his Mother's re- 
quest, he made free as well with the private cha- 
racter of this man as with the views of the Com- 
mittee. " This/ 1 says George, " was very foolish : 
for it made things worse: but I felt too much to 
refrain." 

What connects this episodical circumstance 
with the character of our Author follows in his 
Brother's words. 

"Robert, naturally fond of Peace, and fearful 
for my personal safety, beggM to be suffered to 
retire from the storm. 

"He came home; and Mr. Austin kindly 

bade him take his house for his home till he could 

return to me. And here, with his mind glowing 

with the fine Descriptions of rural scenery which 

c 



xii PREFACE. 

he found in Thomson's Seasons, he again re- 
traced the very fields where first he began to 
think, Here, free from the smoke*, the noise, 
the contention of the city, he imbibed that Love 
of rural Simplicity and rural Innocence, which 
fitted him, in a great degree, to be the writer of 
such a thing as ( the Farmers Boy,' 

'•'Here he liv'd two Months:. ..at length, as 
the dispute in the trade still remained undecided, 
Mr. Dudbridge ofFer'd to take Robert Appren- 
tice, to secure him, at all events, from any con- 
sequences of the Litigation. 

He was bound by Mr. Ingram, of Bell-alley, 
to Mr. John Dudbridge. His Brother George paid 
five shillings for Robert, by way of form, as a 
premium. Dudbridge was their Landlord, and 
a freeman of the city of London. He acted most 
honourably, and took no advantage of the power 
which the Indentures gave him. George Bloom- 
field staid vrith Robert till he found he could work 
as expertly as his self. 

Mr. George Bloomfield adds, " When I 
left London he was turned of twenty; and much 
of my happiness since has arisen from a constant 
correspondence which I have held with him. 

* But one word is altered is this Description; which re- 
minds one of the 

Omitte mirari beatx 

Fumum et opes Strepitumque Romas. L. 



PREFACE. xiii 

ff After I left him, he studied Music, and was 
a good player on the Violin. 

" But as my Brother Nat had married a Wool- 
wich woman, it happenM that Robert took a fancy 
to Mary-Anne Church, a comely young woman 
of that town, whose Father is a boat-builder in 
the Government yard there. He married 12th 
Dec. 1790*. 

" Soon after he married, Robert told me, in a 
Letter, that 'he had sold his Fiddle and got a 
Wife/ Like most poor men, he got a wife first, 
and had to get household stuff afterward. It took 
him some time to get out of ready furnished 
Lodgings. At length, by hardworking, &c. be 
acquired a Bed of his own, andhirM the room up 
one pair of stairs at 14, Bell -alley ; Coleman- street* 
The Landlord kindly gave him leave to sit 
and work in the light Garret, two pair of stairs 
higher. 

" In this Garret, amid six or seven other work- 
men, his active mind employed itself in compo- 
sing f the Farmers Boy? 

"In my correspondence I have seen several 
poetical effusions of his ; all of them of a good 
moral tendency ; but which he very likely would 
think do him little credit : on that account I have 
not preserved them. 

* This Date from the Author. C. I* 



xiv PREFACE. 

" Robert is a Ladies Shoemaker, and works 
for Mr. Davies, Lombard- street. He is of a slen- 
der make; of about 5 F. 4 I. high; very dark 
complexion. . . .His Mother, who is a very re- 
ligious member of the Church of England, took all 
the pains she could in his infancy to make him 
pious: and, as his reason expanded, his love of 
God and Man increas'd with it. I never knew 
his fellow for mildness of temper and Goodness 
of disposition. And since I left him, univer- 
sally is he prais'd by those who know him best, 
for the best of Husbands, an indulgent Father, 
and quiet Neighbour. He is between thirty- 
three and four years old*, and has three chil- 
dren;" two Daughters and a Son f . 

Mr. George Bloom field concludes this clear, 
affectionate, and interesting Narrative, by a very 
kind Address to the Writer of this preface. But 
pleasM as I am with the good opinion of a Man 
like him, I must not take praise to myself for 
not having neglected or suppressM such a Work 
when it came into my hands. And I have no 
farther merit than that of seeing what it was im- 

* Corrected from the above Date, p. iv, to his present 
Age, May 1800. C. L. 

t Added from the information of Mr. R. Bloomfield. 
Now four; Hannah^ born 25 Oct. 1791. Mary Anne, 
6 July 1793. Charles, 15 Sept. 1798. Charlotte, 20 Apr. 
1801. 



PREFACE. xv 

possible for an unprejudicM Mind not to see, and 
of doing what it was impossible not to do. 

But I join with him cordially in his prayer, 
"that God, the Giver of thought, may, as mental 
light spreads, raise up many who will turn a 
listening ear, and will not despise 

" The short and simple annals of the poor ." 

Very few words will complete what remains 
to be added. 

Struck with the Work, but not less struck 
with the remark, which is become a proverb, of 
the Roman Satirist, that " it is not easy * for those 
to emerge to notice whcfse circumstances obscure 
the observation of their Merits/' I sent it to a 
Friend f, whom I knew to be above these preju- 
dices : and who has deserv'd, and is deserving, 
well of the Public, in many other instances, by 
his attention to Literature and the elegant Arts. 
He immediately express'd a high satisfaction in 
it; and communicated it to the Publishers. They 
adopted it upon terms honourable to themselves, 
and satisfactory to the Author, and to me in his 
behalf. 

My part has been this^ and it has been a very 
pleasing one : to revise the MS., making occa- 

* Hand facile em ergunt quorum virtutibus obstat 
Res angusta dom i . 
t This Friend is Thomas Hill, esq. 



xvi PREFACE. 

sionally corrections with respect to Orthography, 
and sometimes in the grammatical construction. 
The corrections, in point of Grammar, reduce 
themselves almost wholly to a circumstance of 
provincial usage, which even well-educated per- 
sons in Suffolk and Norfolk do not wholly avoid \ 
and which may be said, as to general custom, to 
have become in these counties almost an esta- 
blished Dialect: — that of adopting the plural for 
the singular termination of verbs, so as to ex- 
clude the s. But not a line is added or substan- 
tially alterM through the whole poem. I have 
requested the MS. to be preserved for the satis- 
faction of those who may wish to be satisfied on 
this head *. 

The Proofs have gone through my hands. It 
has been printed slowly: because most carefully: 
as it deservM to be printed. 

I have no doubt of its Reception with the Pub- 
lic: I have none of its going down to Poste- 
rity with honour: which is not always the Fate 
of productions which are popularin theirday. 

Thus much I know: — that the Author, with 
a spirit amiable at all times, and which would 
have been rever'd by Antiquity, seems far less 
interested concerning any Fame or Advantage 
he may derive from it to himself, than in the 
*See the end of the Supplement, p. xx.ii. 



PREFACE. xvii 

pleasure of giving a printed Copy of it, as a tribute 
of duty and affection, to his Mother*; in whose 
pleasure, if it succeeds, his filial heart places the 
gratification of which it is most desirous. It is 
much to be a Poet, such as he will be found: .... 
It is more to be such a Man. 

Troston, n. Bury, Suffolk, 

21st Bee. 1799. CapeL LoFFT. 

* Elizabeth Manby, the Mother of the Author of 
this Poem, wassisterto the wife of Mr. William Austin. 
I had written to Mr. George Bloom field to request the 
maiden name of his Mother. This gain'd me an Answer, 
which I have great pleasure in adding. 

"The late Mr. Austin's wife was a Manby (my Mo- 
ther's Sister.) And it may seem strange that, in the Far- 
mer's Boy, Giles no where calls him Uncle, but Master. . . 
The treatment that my Brother Robert experienced from 
Mr. Austin did not differ in any respect from the treatment 
that all the Servant Boys experiene'd who lived with him. 
Mr. Austin was Father of fourteen Children by my Aunt 
(he never had any other Wife.) He left a decent provision 
for the five Children that surviv'd him: so that it could not 
be expected he should have any thing to give to poor Re- 
lations. And I don't see a possibility of making a dif- 
ference between Giles and the Boys that were not related 
to Mr. Austin: for he treated all his Servants exactly as he 
did his Sons. They all work' d hard \ all liv'd well. The 
Duke had not a better Man Tenant to him than the late 
Mr. Austin. I saw numbers of the Husbandmen in tears 
when he was buried. He was belov'd by all who knew him. 
But I imagine Robert thought that when he was speaking of 
Benevolence that was universal, he had no occasion tor 
mention the accidental circumstance of his being related to« 
the Good Man qf whom he sung." 



^rv^-V^^s 



SUPPLEMENT. 



When the Spirit of Christianity declares 
"blessed are the meek" every heart which consi- 
ders what meekness is, feels the truth of that 
blessedness. -It may smooth the way, and prevent 
impediments, which a different temper raises to 
temporal felicity: it certainly assures that Hea- 
ven which is within: and is a pledge and antici- 
pation of the Heaven hereafter. 

It is pleasing to think on a remark of Mr. 
Geo. Bloom field concerning his Brother when 
he first went to London. " I have him in my 
"mind's eye a little Boy; not bigger than Boys 
"generally are at twelve years old. When I 
"met him and his Mother at the Inn, he strut- 
ted before us, dress'd just as he came from 
"keeping Sheep, Hogs, &c... his shoes fill'd full 
" of stumps in the heels. He looking about him, 
"slipt up . . . his nails were unus'd to a flat pave- 
"ment. I remember viewing him as he scam- 
*' perM up : . . how small he was. Little thought, 
"that little, fatherless Boy would be one day 
" known and esteemed by the most learned, the 
" most respected, the wisest and the best men of 
"the Kingdom." 



SUPPLEMENT. xix 

And those who have shown themselves the 
Friends of the Farmer's Boy must excuse me if 
I mention some of them whose liberal and zeal- 
ous attention had excited those feelings in the 
heart of his Brother, and have fill'd his with sen- 
timents of thankfulness. The Duke of Grafton 
has every way shown himself attentive to the Ge- 
nius, the Worth, of Mr. Bloomfield. He has 
essentially added to his comforts. His R. H. 
the Duke of York, by Capt. Bunbury, has made 
a liberal present, as an acknowledgment of the 
pleasure receiv'd from the perusal of his excel- 
lent Poem. This attention of his R. H. liberal 
and amiable in itself, has been the cause of 
like liberality in others. It suggested to Dr. 
Drake, and other Gentlemen at Hadleigh, the 
idea of a local subscription of a Guinea each in 
that town and Neighbourhood. This has been 
carried into effect by himself and eleven other 
Friends: with a large proportion of those who 
have thus stood forth the Friends of Genius and 
Worth I have the pleasure of being acquainted. 

Sir Charles Bunbury has warmly expressed 
his approbation of the Poem; as not only excel- 
lent for a Farmer's Boy, but such as would do 
honour to any person, whatever his education : 
and he also has much contributed to make it early 
and advantageously known. Mr. Green of Ips- 



xx SUPPLEMENT. 

wich has spoken of it as a charming composi- 
tion : reflecting in a very natural and vivid man- 
ner, the series of interesting images which 
touch'd the sensibility of a young, an artless, but 
a most intelligent observer of Nature ; placM in 
a situation highly favourable to observation, 
though in fact not often productive of it. That 
Originality in such a subject is invaluable: and 
that this Poem appears to him (I know few men 
so qualified to judge on such a point) throughout 
original. And literary characters, who have 
earnt to themselves much of true Praise by their 
own Productions, Mr. Dyer, and Dr. Drake of 
Hadleigh, have given full and appropriate en- 
comium to the excellence, both in Plan and Exe- 
cution, of this admirable Rural Poem. My 
Friend Mr. Black of JVoodbridge has notic'd it 
in a very pleasing and characteristic Letter ad- 
dressed to me in verse. I believe I shall not be 
just to the Farmer's Boy if I omit to notice that 
the Taste and Genius of Mrs. Opie, born to do 
honour to every department of the Fine Arts, 
have given her a high sentiment of its merits*. 

I rejoice in that Fame which is just to living 
Merit, and waits not for the Tomb to present the 

* It is highly pleasing to add that the Poetic Wreath has 
been given to the Farmer's Boy by the Muse of Lich- 
field. 



SUPPLEMENT. xxi 

tardy and then unvalued Wreath: I rejoice in 
the sense express'd not only of his Genius, but of 
his pure, benevolent, amiable Virtue, his affec- 
tionate Veneration to the Deity, and his good 
Will- to all. . . .Obscurity and Adversity have not 
broken; Fame and Prosperity, I am persuaded, 
•will not corrupt him. 

I cannot deny myself the satisfaction of men- 
tioning that, after an absence of twelve years*, 
the Author of the Farmer's Boy has revisited his 
native Plains. That he has seen his Mother in 
health and spirits: seen her with a joy to both 
which even his own most expressive and pathe- 
tic language would imperfectly describe. . . .Seen 
other near, affectionate, and belov'd Relatives: 
review'd, with the feelings of a truly poetic and 
benevolent Mind, the haunts of his youth ; the 
Woods and Vales, the Cot, the Field, and the 
Tree, which even recollected after so many years, 
and at a distance, had awakened in such a man- 
ner the energies of his Heart and Intellect, and 
had inspired strains which will never cease to be 
repeated with pleasure and admiration. 

I would add, that, I believe, few Works of 
such Nature and Extent ever were so little al- 
tered from the first as this has been : and that few 

* Written in 1800. C. L. 



xxii SUPPLEMENT. 

indeed, have been such as to require and proper- 
ly admit of so little alteration. Some few Cor- 
rections, however, and Improvements have pro- 
gressively been made. They are very few: but 
those who possess the First Edition, and have 
sufficient critical Taste to prompt them to the 
Enquiry, may readily trace them; and it was 
proper to notice this becoming attention of the 
Author to his Work. 

I understand there is a Prose Translation of 
The Farmer s Boy into French* ; and it is transla- 
ting into ItaFian. The first Book was early trans- 
lated into Latin, 

* I have seen this Translation, entitled Le Valet dv 
Fermier; accompanied with neat Copper-plate Copies of 
the Wooden Engravings. It is handsomely printed: and 
the Translation is spirited, easy, not unmusical in the ca- 
dence of its periods; and, except some passages which are 
omitted as intractable, generally correct. Proper names, 
as usual, suffer strange metamorphose; Rodvvell into Rod- 
wen : Bunbury into Bomberg : and, by being too literal, 
* r O dear," in the pathetic exclamation of the poor Girl, be- 
comes " Chery" instead of "helas." 



SUPPLEMENT. xxiii 

({3 s * The following statement has been three y ears before 
the public; being first printed in the "Monthly 
Mi r ror, for Jan. 1 802." The reader wilt remem- 
ber, that it applies to the first edition only of the 
poem; as all subsequent emendations have been 
made by the author. 



Mr. PARK'S STATEMENT 

OF 

VERBAL VARIATIONS, 

Between the MS. Copy and Printed Poem of 

"the farmer's boy." 

As it is not improbable that some of those invidious spirits 
who reluctantly allow to any popular writer the credit of 
having produced his own work, may hereafter report, to 
the disadvantage of Mr. Bloomfield, that his learned friend 
and editor was materially concerned in composing " The 
Farmer's Boy," I have taken the most effectual means in 
my power, to counteract the injurious tendency of such re- 
port, by collating the printed poem with the author's origi- 
nal manuscript*, which had passed through the hands of 
Mr. Capel Lofft; and I transmit all the verbal variations 
which have been observed in the course of such collation, 
that they may be perpetuated on the pages of a miscellany 
which has been uniformly zealous in extending the well- 

* Now in the possession of Mr. Hill. 



xsiv SUPPLEMENT. 

earned reputation of our rural bard. I must also premise, what 
affects not the merits of the composition in any degree, that 
Capital Letters and Italic Characters were supplied by Mr. 
Lofft, as were various defects in orthography and punctua- 
tion, which arose from the author's want of education, and 
of leisure fitly to supply that loss. 

SPRING. 

MS. Copy. * Printed Poem. 

Page. Line. 

5 2 hover hovers and hover'st. 

7 lowly tale humble lines. 

4 14 those these. 

7 65 Summons — plough .. summon — ploughs. 
66 blow biows. 

8 93 traverse once once transverse. 

98 pierce breaks. 

9 116 a cenlinel such centinels. 

1 1 135 Gave Whence. 

144 bright white. 

12 155 to clear. lighting. 

156 And give Giving. 

161 a the. 

1 63 Giles he. 

13 179 Subordination stage 

by stage 

14 189 and which. 

15 217 New milk around .. Streams of new milk. 
17 250 and or. 

SUMMER. 

28 23 milder closing. 

25 parches pierces. 

29 34 Have Has. 



Subordinate they one by one 



SUPPLEMENT. xxv 

MS. Copy. Printed Poem. 

Page, Line. 

4-1 evince its evinces. 

55 143 loins form. 

39 209 thy crest of. the crest-wav'd. 

220 brush them brushes. 

40 244 And use Using. 

45 318 the their. 

48 374 other than now but. 

AUTUMN. 

57 77 Giles — leisure his — ease to. 

58 81 dust bones. 

59 105 and the rose that ) . 

> hence the tints that glow, 
blow '..... j 

106 with — glow an — know. 

60 130 a her. 

61 147 With Her. 

63 173 and next. 

65 216 And place Placing. 

71 325 bestrewing round . . . are strewn around. 

71 343 capon cockrel. 

WINTER. 

77 5 or burns with thirst. . partaking first. 
6 trust thirst. 

78 17 dependant — low . ..the storm-pinch'd — lows. 
18 grow grows. 

80 47 the world for rest. 

83 103 ye you. 

116 every all the. 

85 152 But Their. 

92 264 traverse passes. 

96 337 First at whose birth. . At whose first birth* 

97 552 Paternal Maternal. 



xxvii SUPPLEMENT. 

MS. Copy. Printed Poem. 

Page. Line. 

99 390 Pierce the dark wood ) ... , . . e 4 

/ Wander the leaf-strewn 
and brave the sultry r , . r , . 

J \ wood, the frozen plain, 
plain J 

391 Let field, and dim--) 

/ Let the first flower, corn- 
pled brook, and flower \ 

. V waving field, plain, tree, 

and tree J 

It will be seen, from this minute statement, that the edi- 
tor's emendations were very inconsiderable, though most of 
them appear highly judicious, and many of them absolutely 
necessary, for the purpose of removing certain grammatical 
inaccuracies, which may be considered as mere freckles on 
the natural complexion of our Farmer's Boy. 

I have been indulged with a similar opportunity of in- 
specting the MS. copy of those admirable " Tales, Ballads, 
and Songs," recently published by the same interesting poet ; 
but the editor's hints for correction proved too few and too 
unimportant to authorise any public specification of them. 

With an earnest hope that our English Burns will find 
some generous patron to raise him from the sphere of manual 
into that of mental occupation, I am, 

Mr. Editor, yours, &c. 

T. Park. 

Jan. 18, 1802. 



SPRING. 



ARGUMENT. 

Invocation, ^c. Seedtime. Harrowing. Morning 
walks. Milking.- The Dairy. Suffolk Cheese. 
Spring coming forth. Sheep fond of changing. 
Lambs at play. The Butcher, fyc. 




SPRING, 



i. 

O come, blest Spirit! whatsoe'er thou art, 

Thou kindling warmth that hover'st round my heart, 

Sweet inmate, hail ! thou source of sterling joy, 

That poverty itself cannot destroy, 

Be thou my Muse; and faithful still to me, 

Retrace the paths of wild obscurity. 

No deeds of arms my humble lines rehearse; 

No Alpine wonders thunder through my verse, 



SPRING. 



Invocation.. ..Simple character of Giles. v. 9. 

The roaring cataract, the snow-topt hill, 
^ Inspiring awe, till breath itself stands still : * 
Nature's sublimer scenes ne'er charm'd mine eyes, 
Nor Science led me through the boundless skies; 
From meaner objects far my raptures flow: 
O point these raptures ! bid my bosom glow ! 
And lead my soul to ecstacies of praise 
For all the blessings of my infant days ! 
Bear me through regions where gay Fancy dwells ; 
But mould to Truth's fair form what Memory tells. 

Live, trifling incidents, and grace my song, 
That to the humblest menial belong: 
To him whose drudgery unheeded goes. 
His joys unreckon'd as his cares or woes; 
Though joys and cares in every path are sown, 
And youthful minds have feelings of their own, 
Quick springing sorrows, transient as the dew, 
Delights from trifles, trifles ever new. 



SPRING., 



v. 27. Euston in Suffolk, and its neighbourhood, the Scene. 

• 'Tvvas thus with Giles : meek, fatherless, and poor: 
Labour his portion, but he felt no more ; 
No stripes, no tyranny his steps pursu'd; 
His life was constant, cheerful servitude: 
Strange to the world, he wore a bashful look, 
The fields his study, Nature was his book; 
And, as revolving Seasons chang'd the scene 
From heat to cold, tempestuous to serene, 
Though every change still varied his employ, 
Yet each new duty brought its share of joy. 

Where noble Grafton spreads his rich domains, 
Round Euston s water'd vale, and sloping plains, 
Where woods and groves in solemn grandeur rise, 
Where the kite brooding unmolested flies; 
The woodcock and the painted pheasant race, 
And sculking Foxes, destinM for the chace; 
There Giles, untaught and unrepining, strayed 
Through every copse, and grove, and winding glade; 



SPRING. 



Benevolent character of Giles's Master.. ..Spring begins. v. 45. 

There his first thoughts to Nature's charms inclin'd, 

That stamps devotion on th' inquiring mind, 

A little farm his generous Master tilPd, 

Who with peculiar grace his station fill'd; 

By deeds of hospitality endear'd, 

ServM from affection, for his worth rever'd ; 

A happy offspring blest his plenteous board, 

His fields were fruitful, and his barns well stor'd, 

And fourscore ewes he fed, a sturdy team, 

And lowing kine that grazM beside the stream: 

Unceasing industry he kept in view; 

And never lackM a job for Giles to do. 

Fled now the sullen murmurs of the North, 
The splendid raiment of the Spring peeps forth ; 
Her universal green, and the clear sky, 
Delight still more and more the gazing eye. 
Wide o'er the fields, in rising moisture strong, 
Shoots up the simple flower, or creeps along 



SPRING. 



v. 63. Giles goes out to plow. 



The mellowed soil ; imbibing fairer tines, 

Or sweets from frequent showers and evening dews ; 

That summon from their shed the slumb'ring plows, 

While health impregnates every breeze that blows. 

No wheels support the diving, pointed share ; 

No groaning ox is doom'd to labour there ; 

No helpmates teach the docile steed his road; 

(Alike unknown the plow-boy and the goad ;) 

But, unassisted through each toilsome day, 

With smiling brow the Plowman cleaves his way, 

Draws his fresh parallels, and, widening still, 

Treads slow the heavy dale, or climbs the hill : 

Strong on the wing his busy followers play, 

Where writhing earth-worms meetth'unwelcome day ; 

Till all is chang'd, and hill and level down 

Assume a livery of sober brown: 

Again disturbed, when Giles with wearying strides 

From ridge to ridge the ponderous harrow guides; 



SPRING. 



Harrowing.... Giles and his Horses rest. v. 81. 

His heels deep sinking every step he goes, 

Till dirt adhesive loads his clouted shoes. 

Welcome green headland ! firm beneath his feet ; 

Welcome the friendly bank's refreshing seat; 

There, warm with toil, his panting horses browse 

Their sheltering canopy of pendent boughs; 

Till rest, delicious, chase each transient pain, 

And new-born vigour swell in every vein. 

Hour after hour, and day to day succeeds ; 

Till every clod and deep-drawn furrow spreads 

To crumbling mould ; a level surface clear, 

And strewM with corn to crown the rising year; 

And o'er the whole Giles once transverse again, 

In earth's moist bosom buries up the grain. 

The work is done; no more to man is given ; 

The grateful Farmer trusts the rest to Heaven, 

Yet oft with anxious heart he looks around, 

And marks the first green blade that breaksthe ground; 



SPRING. 



v. 99. Rooks. 



In fancy sees his trembling oats uprun, 
His tufted barley yellow with the sun; 
Sees clouds propitious shed their timely store, 
And all his harvest gathered round his door. 
But still unsafe the big swoln grain below, 
A favorite morsel with the Rook and Crow; 
From field to field the flock increasing goes; 
To level crops most formidable foes: 
Their danger well the wary plunderers know, 
And place a watch on some conspicuous bough; 
Yet oft the sculking gunner by surprize 
Will scatter death amongst them as they rise. 
These, hung in triumph round the spacious field, 
At best will but a short-liv'd terror yield : 
Nor guards of property; (not penal law, 
But harmless riflemen of rags and straw) ; 
Familiariz'd to these, they boldly rove, 
Nor heed such centinels that never move. 



10 SPRING. 



Wood Scenerv. v. 117. 



Let then your birds lie prostrate on the earth, 
In dying posture, and with wings stretcht forth; 
Shift them at eve or morn from place to place, 
And Death shall terrify the pilfering race; 
In the mid air, while circling round and round, 
They call their lifeless comrades from the ground; 
With quickening wing, and notes of loud alarm, 
Warn the whole flock to shun th' impending harm. 
This task had Giles, in fields remote from home : 
Oft has he wish'd the rosy morn to come; 
Yet never fam'd was he nor foremost found 
To break the seal of sleep ; his sleep was sound : 
But when at day-break summon'd from his bed, 
Light as the lark that carol'd o'er his head. — 
His sandy way, deep-w r orn by hasty showers, 
O'er-arch/d with oaks that form'd fantastic bow'rs, 
Waving aloft their towering branches proud, 
In borrow'd tinges from the eastern cloud, 



SPRING. ir 



v. 135. Various Birds.. ..Their song and appearance... .Pheasant. 

Gave inspiration, pure as ever flowM, 

And genuine transport in his bosom glowed. 

His own shrill matin join'd the various notes 

Of Nature's music, from a thousand throats : 

The Blackbird strove with emulation sweet, 

And Echo answer'd from her close retreat; 

The sporting White-throat on some twig's end borne, 

PourM hymns to freedom and the rising morn; 

Stopt in her song perchance the starting Thrush 

Shook a white shower from the black-thorn bush. 

Where dew-drops thick as early blossoms hung, 

And trembled as the minstrel sweetly sung. 

Across his path, in either grove to hide, 

The timid Rabbit scouted by his side ; 

Or Pheasant boldly stalkM along the road, 

W 7 hose gold and purple tints alternate glow'd. 

But groves no farther fencM the devious way ; 
A wide-extended heath before him lay, 



12 SPRING. 



Bringing in of Cows to be milked. 



Where on the grass the stagnant shower had run, 
And shone a mirror to the rising sun, 
Thus doubly seen to light a distant wood, 
To give new life to each expanding bud; 
And chase away the dewy foot-marks found, 
Where prowling Reynard trod his nightly round ; 
To shun whose thefts 'twas Giles's evening care, 
His feather'd victims to suspend in air, 
High on the bough that nodded o'er his head, 
And thus each morn to strew the field with dead. 

His simple errand done, he homeward hies; 
Another instantly its place supplies. 
The clattering Dairy -Maid immersed in steam, 
Singing and scrubbing midst her milk and cream, 
Bawls out, " Go fetch the Cons;"... he hears no more; 
For pigs, and ducks, and turkies, throng the door, 
And sitting hens, for constant war preparM; 
A concert strange to that which late he heard. 



SPRING. 13 



Order of the Cows returning. , 



Straight to the meadow then he whistling goes; 
With well-known halloo calls his lazy Cows: 
Down the rich pasture heedlessly they graze, 
Or hear the summon with an idle gaze; 
For well they know the cow-yard yields no more 
Its tempting fragrance, nor its wintry store. 
Reluctance marks their steps, sedate and slow; 
The right of conquest all the law they know: 
The strong press on, the weak by turns succeed, 
And one superior always takes the lead; 
Is ever foremost, wheresoe'er they stray: 
AllowM precedence, undisputed sway*: 
With jealous pride her station is maintained, 
For many a broil that post of honour gain'd. 
At home, the yard affords a grateful scene ; 
For Spring makes e'en a miry cow-yard clean. 
Thence from its chalky bed behold conveyed 
The rich manure that drenching Winter made, 

* I have seen a similar remark in a description of Switzerland. L, 



14 SPRING. 



Milking. v. 189- 



Which piPd near home,growsgreenwithmanya weed, 

A promis'd nutriment for Autumn's seed. 

Forth comes the Maid-, and like the morning smiles; 

The Mistress too, and followed close by Giles. 

A friendly tripod forms their humble seat, 

With pails bright scour'd, and delicately sweet. 

Where shadowing elms obstruct the morning ray, 

Begins the work, begins the simple lay; 

The full-charg'd udder yields its willing streams, 

While Mmy sings some lover's amorous dreams; 

And crouching Giles beneath a neighbouring tree 

Tugs o'er his pail, and chants with equal glee; 

Whose hat with tatterM brim, of nap so bare, 

From the cow's side purloins a coat of hair, 

A mottled ensign of his harmless trade, 

An unambitious, peaceable cockade. 

As unambitious too that cheerful aid 

The Mistress yields beside her rosy Maid;, 




iikA; 



SPRING. 15 



v. 207. The Dairy. 



With joy she views her plenteous reeking store, 
And bears a brimmer to the dairy door; 
Her Cows dismiss'd, the luscious mead to roam, 
Till eve again recall them loaded home. 
And now the Da iky claims her choicest care, 
And half her household find employment there; 
Slow rolls the churn, its load of clogging cream 
At once forgoes its quality and name ; 
From knotty particles first floating wide 
Congealing butter's dash'd from side to side; 
Streams of new milk through flowing coolers stray, 
And snow-white curd abounds, and wholesome whey. 
Due north th' unglazed windows, cold and clear, 
For warming sunbeams are unwelcome here. 
Brisk goes the work beneath each busy hand, 
And Giles must trudge, whoever gives command; 
A Gibeonite, that serves them all by turns: 
He drains the pump, from him the faggot burns; 



16 SPRING. 



Suffolk Cheese. v. '225; 



From him the noisy Hogs demand their food ; 
While at his heels run many a chirping brood, 
Or down his path in expectation stand, 
With equal claims upon his strewing hand. 
Thus wastes the morn, till each with pleasure sees 
The bustle o'er, and pressed the new-made cheese. 
Unrivall'd stands thy country Cheese, O Giles! 
Whose very name alone engenders smiles; 
Whose fame abroad by every tongue is spoke, 
The well-known butt of many a flinty joke, 
That pass like current coin the nation through; 
And, ah! experience proves the satire-true. 
Provision's grave, thou ever-craving mart, 
Dependant, huge Metropolis! where Art 
Her poring thousands stows in breathless rooms, 
Midstpois'nous smokes and steams, and rattling looms; 
Where Grandeur revels in unbounded stores; 
Restraint, a slighted stranger at their doors! 



SPRING. 17 



v. 243. Suffolk Cheese. 



Thou, like a whirlpool, drain'stthe countries round, 
Till London market, London price, resound 
Through every town, round every passing load, 
And dairy produce throngs the eastern road: 
Delicious veal, and butter, every hour, 
From Essex lowlands, and the banks of Stour; 
And further far, where numerous herds repose, 
From Orwell's brink, from Waveny, or Ouse. 
Hence Suffolk dairy-wives run mad for cream, 
And leave their milk with nothing but its name; 
Its name derision and reproach pursue, 
And strangers tell of " three times skimm'd sky-blue." 
To cheese converted, what can be its boast? 
What, but the common virtues of a post! 
If drought o'ertake it faster than the knife, 
Most fair it bids for stubborn length of life, 
And, like the oaken shelf whereon His laid, 
Mocks the weak efforts of the bending blade; 
c 



40 



18 SPRING. 



The procession of Spring. v. 26 1 . 



Or in the hog-trough rests in perfect spite, 
Too big to swallow, and too hard to bite. 
Inglorious victory ! Ye Cheshire meads, 
Or Severn's flow'ry dales, where Plenty treads, 
Was your rich milk to suffer wrongs like these, 
Farewell your pride! farewell renowned cheese! 
The skimmer dread, whose ravages alone 
Thus turn the mead's sweet nectar into stone. 

Neglected now the early daisy lies: 
Nor thou, ipa\e primrose, bloom'st the only prize: 
Advancing Spring profusely spreads abroad 
•Flow'rs of all hues, with sweetest fragrance stor'd ; 
Where'er she treads, Love gladdens every plain, 
Delight on tiptoe bears her Lucid train ; 
Sweet Hope with conscious brow before her flies. 
Anticipating wealth from Summer skies; 
All Nature feels her renovating sway ; 
The sheep-fed pasture, and the meadow gay ; 



SPRING. 19 



v. 279. Sheep....Range of Pasture. 

And trees, and shrubs, no longer budding seen, 
Display the new-grown branch of lighter green; 
On airy downs the Shepherd idling lies, 
And sees to-morroiv in the marbled skies. 
Here then, my soul, thy darling theme pursue, 
For every day was Giles a shepherd too. 

Small was his charge : no wilds had they to roam ; 
But bright inclosures-circling round their home. 
No yellow-blossomM furze, nor stubborn thorn, 
The heath's rough produce, had their fleeces torn: 
Yet ever roving, ever seeking thee, 
Enchanting spirit, dear Variety ! 
O happy tenants, prisoners of a day ! 
Released to ease, to pleasure, and to play; 
IndulgM through every field by turns to range, 
And taste them all in one continual change. 
For though luxuriant their grassy food, 
Sheep long confin'd but loathe the present good ; 



20 SPRING. 



Lambs at play.-Pasture Scenery...Hedges in bloom. v. 297. 

Bleating around the homeward gate they meet, 
And starve, and pine, with plenty at their feet. 
Loos'd from the winding lane, a joyful throng, 
See, o'er yon pasture, how they pour along! 
Giles round their boundaries takes his usual stroll; 
Sees every pass secured, and fences whole; 
High fences, proud to charm the gazing eye, 
Where many a nestling first assays to fly; 
Where blows the woodbine, faintly streakM with red, 
And rests on every bough its tender head ; 
Round the young ash its twining branches meet, 
Or crown the hawthorn with its odours sweet. 

Say, ye that know, ye who have felt and seen, 
Spring's morning smiles, and soul-enliv'ning green, 
Say, did you give the thrilling transport w r ay ? 
Did your eye brighten, when young Lambs at play 
Leap'd o'er your path with animated pride, 
Or gazM in merry clusters by your side? 



SPRING. 21 



v. 315. Lambs at play. 



Ye who can smile, to wisdom no disgrace, 
At the arch meaning of a Kitten's face; 
If spotless innocence, and infant mirth, 
Excites to praise, or gives reflection birth; 
In shades like these pursue your favorite joy, 
Midst Nature's revels, sports that never cloy, 

A few begin a short but vigorous race, 
And Indolence abash'd soon flies the place; 
Thus challenged forth, see thither one by one, 
From every side assembling playmates run; 
A thousand wily antics mark their stay, 
A starting crowd, impatient of delay. 
Like the fond dove from fearful prison freed, 
Each seems to say, " Come, let us try our speed;" 
Away they scour, impetuous, ardent, strong, 
The green turf trembling as they bound along; 
Adown the slope, then up the hillock climb, 
Where every molehill is a bed of thyme; 



SPRING 



Contrast of their near approaching fate. 



There panting stop ; yet scarcely can refrain; 

A bird, a leaf, will set them off again : 

Or, if a gale with strength unusual blow, 

Scattering the wild-briar roses into snow, 

Their little limbs increasing efforts try, 

Like the torn flower the fair assemblage fly. 

Ah, fallen rose! sad emblem of their doom; 

Frail as thyself, they perish while they bloom! 

Though unoffending Innocence may plead, 

Though frantic Ewes may mourn the savage deed, 

Their shepherd comes, a messenger of blood, 

And drives them bleating from their sports and. food. 

Care loads his brow, and pity wrings his heart, 

For lo, the murd'ring Butcher, with his cart, 

Demands the firstlings of his flock to die, 

And makes a sport of life and liberty ! 

His gay companions Giles beholds no more; 

CJos'd are their eyes, their fleeces drenchM in gore ; 



SPRING. 



23 



t. 351. 



Conclusion of the first Book. 



Nor can Compassion, with her softest notes, 
Withhold theknife that plunges through theirthroats. 

Down, indignation ! hence, ideas foul ! 
Away the shocking image from my soul! 
Let kindlier visitants attend my way, 
Beneath approaching Summer* s fervid ray; 
Nor thankless glooms obtrude, nor cares annoy, 
Whilst the sweet theme is universal joy. 




SUMMER. 



A R G U M E N T. 

Turnip sowing. TV heat ripening. Sparrows. Insects. 
Tlie sky -lark. Heaping, 5fc. Harvest-field, Dai- 
ry-maid, fyc. labours of the barn. The gander. 
Xight; a thunder storm. Harvest-home. Reflec- 
tions, fyc. 




SUMMER. 



XI. 

1 he Farmer's life displays in every part 
A moral lesson to the sensual heart. 
Though in the lap of Plenty, thoughtful still, 
He looks beyond the present good or ill; 
Nor estimates alone one blessing's worth, 
From changeful seasons, or capricious earth ; 
But views the future with the present hours, 
And looks for failures as he looks for showers; 
For .casual as for certain want prepares, 
And round his yard the reeking haystack rears; 



28 SUMMER. 



Provident turn of the Fanner's mind. v. 11. 

Or clover, blossom'd lovely to the sight, 

His team's rich store through many a wintry night. 

What though abundance round his dwelling spreads, 

Though ever moist his self-improving meads 

Supply his dairy with a copious flood, 

And seem to promise unexhausted food; 

That promise fails, when buried deep in snow, 

And vegetative juices cease to flow. 

For this, his plow turns up the destin'd lands, 

Whence stormy Winter draws its full demands; 

For this, the seed minutely small, he sows, 

Whence, sound and sweet, the hardy turnip grows. 

But how unlike to April's closing days ! 

High climbs the Sun, and darts his powerful rays; 

Whitens the fresh-drawn mould, and pierces through 

The cumbrous clods that tumble round the plow. 

O'er heaven's bright azure hence with joyful eyes 

The Farmer sees dark clouds assembling rise; 



SUMMER. 29 



v. 29. Showers softening the soil. 

Borne o'er his fields a heavy torrent falls, 

And strikes the earth in hasty driving squalls. 

" Right welcome down, ye precious drops, 3 ' he cries; 

But soon, too soon, the partial blessing flies. 

" Boy, bring thy harroivs, try how deep the rain 

(i Hasforc'd its way." He comes, but comes in vain ; 

Dry dust beneath the bubbling surface lurks, 

And mocks his pains the more, the more he works : 

Still, midst huge clods, he plunges on forlorn, 

That laugh his harrows and the shower to scorn. 

E'en thus the living clod, the stubborn fool, 

Resists the stormy lectures of the school, 

Titl tried with gentler means, the dunce to please, 

His head imbibes right reason by degrees; 

As when from eve till morning's wakeful hour, 

Light, constant rain evinces secret pow'r, 

And ere the day resume its wonted smiles, 

Presents a cheerful, easy task for Giles, 



50 SUMME R. 

Green Corn.... Sparrows. v. 47. 

Down with a touch the mellowed soil is laid, 
And yon tall crop next claims his timely aid ; 
Thither well pleasM he hies, assured to find 
Wild, trackless haunts, and objects to his mind: 

Shot up from broad rank blades that droop below, 
The nodding wheat-ear forms a graceful bow, 
With milky kernels starting fall; weigh'd down, 
Ere yet the sun hath ting'd its head with brown; 
Whilst thousands in a flock, for ever gay, 
Loud chirping sparrows welcome on the day, 
And from the mazes of the leafy thorn 
Drop one by one upon the bending corn* 
Giles with a pole assails their close retreats, 
And round the grass- grown dewy border beats, 
On either side completely overspread, 
Here branches bend, there corn o'ertops his head. 
Green covert, hail ! for through the varying year 
No hours so sweet, no scene to him so dear. 



SUMMER. 31 



v. 65. Scenery.. ..full of life, and inspiring contemplation. 

Here Wisdoms placid eye delighted sees 
His frequent intervals of lonely ease, 
And with one ray his infant soul inspires* 
Just kindling there her never-dying fires, 
Whence solitude derives peculiar charms,- 
And heaven-directed thought his bosom warms* 
Just where the parting bough's light shadows play, 
Scarce in the shade, nor in the scorching day, 
StretchM on the turf he lies, a peopled bed, 
Where swarming insects creep around his head. 
The small dust-colourM beetle climbs with pain 
O'er the smooth plantain-leaf, a spacious plain ! 
Thence higher still, by countless steps convey'd, 
He gains the summit of a shivering blade, 
And flirts his filmy wings, and looks around, 
Exulting in his distance from the ground. 
The tender speckled moth here dancing seen, 
The vaulting grasshopper of glossy green, 



32 SUM M E R. 



The Sky-lark. v. S3 



And all-prolific Summer's sporting train, 
Their little lives by various powers sustain. 
But what can unassisted vision do? 
What, but recoil where most it would pursue; 
His patient gaze but finish with a sigh, 
When Music waking speaks the sky-lark nigh ! 
Just starting from the corn, he cheerly sings, 
And trusts with conscious pride his downy wings ; 
Still louder breathes, and in the face of day 
Mounts up, and calls on Giles to mark his way. 
Close to his eyes his hat he instant bends. 
And forms a friendly telescope, that lends 
Just aid enough to dull the glaring light, 
And place the wand'ring bird before his sight, 
That oft beneath a light cloud sweeps along, 
Lost for a while, yet pours the varied song : 
The eye still follows, and the cloud moves by, 
Again he stretches up the clear blue sky; 



S UMMEE. 33 



v. 101. Sleep and Tranquillity of Giles... .Corn ripening. 

His form, his motion, undistinguished quite, 
Save when he wheels direct from shade to light: 
E'en then the songster, a mere speck became, 
Gliding like fancy's bubbles in a dream, 
The gazer sees; but yielding to repose, 
Unwittingly his jaded eyelids close. 
Delicious sleep ! From sleep who could forbear, 
With no more guilt than Giles, and no more care ? 
Peace o'er his slumbers waves her guardian wing, 
Nor Conscience once disturbs him with a sting; 
He wakes refreshed from every trivial pain, 
And takes his pole and brushes round again. 
Its dark-green hue, its sicklier tints all fail, 
And ripening Harvest rustles in the gale. 
A glorious sight, if glory dwells below, 
Where Heaven's munificence makes all the show, 
O'er every field and golden prospect found, 
That glads the Plowman's Sunday morning's round, 



34 SUMMER. 



Pleasure from the views of Nature. 



When on some eminence he takes his stand, 
To judge the smiling produce of the land. 
Here Vanity slinks back, her head to hide: 
What is there here to flatter human pride? 
The tow'ring fabric, or the dome's loud roar, 
And stedfast columns, may astonish more, 
Where the charnvd gazer long delighted stays, 
Yet trac'd but to the architect the praise; 
Whilst here, the veriest clown that treads the sod, 
Without one scruple gives the praise to God ; 
And twofold joys possess his rapturd mind, 
From gratitude and admiration join'd. 

Here, midst the boldest triumphs of her worth, 
Nature herself invites the reapers forth; 
Dares the keen sickle from its twelvemonth's rest, 
And gives that ardour which in every breast 
From infancy to age alike appears, 
When the first sheaf its plumy top uprears. 



SUMMER. 3.5 



Reapers.. ..Gleaning. 



No rake takes here what Heaven to all bestows... 
Children of want, for you the bounty flows ! 
And every cottage from the plenteous store 
Receives a burden nightly at its door. 

Hark! where the sweeping scythe now rips alon« 
Each sturdy Mower, emulous and strong, 
Whose writhing form meridian heat defies, 
Bends o'er his work, and every sinew tries; 
Prostrates the waving treasure at his feet, 
But spares the rising clover, short and sweet. 
Come, Health! come, Jollity! light-footed, come; 
Here hold your revels, and make this your home. 
Each heart awaits and hails you as its own ; 
Each moisten'd brow, that scorns to wear a frown: 
Th* unpeopled dwelling mourns its tenants stray'd; 
E'en the domestic laughing dairy maid 
Hies to the field, the general toil to share. 
Meanwhile the Farmer quits his elbow-chair, 



36 SUMMER. 



The joy of the Farmer. v. 155. 



His cool brick-floor, his pitcher, and his ease, 
And braves the sultry beams, and gladly sees 
His gates thrown open, and his team abroad, 
The ready group attendant on his word, 
To turn the swarth, the quiv'ring load to rear, 
Or ply the busy rake, the land to clear. 
Summer's light garb itself now cumbrous grown* 
Each his thin doublet in the shade throws down; 
Where oft the Mastiff sculks with half-shut eye, 
And rouses at the stranger passing by ; 
Whilst unrestrain'd the social converse flows, 
And every breast Love's powerful impulse knows, 
And rival wits with more than rustic grace 
Confess the presence of a pretty face. 

For, lo ! encircled there, the lovely Maid, 
In youth's own bloom and native smiles array'd^ 
Her hat awry, divested of her gown, 
Her creaking stays of leather, stout and brown;... 



SUMMER. 37 



v. 173. The Country Maid. 



Invidious barrier! why art thou so high, 
When the slight covering of her neck slips by, 
There half revealing to the eager sight 
Her full, ripe bosom, exquisitely white? 
In many a local tale of harmless mirth, 
And many a jest of momentary birth, 
She bears a part, and as she stops to speak, 
Strokes back the ringlets from her glowing cheek; 

Now noon gone by, and four declining hours, 
The weary limbs relax their boasted pow'rs; 
Thirst rages strong, the fainting spirits fail, 
And ask the sov'reign cordial, Jiome-brew'd ale : 
Beneath some shelt'ring heap of yellow corn 
Rests the hoop'd keg, and friendly cooling horn, 
That mocks alike the goblet's brittle frame, 
Its costlier potions, and its nobler name. 
To Mary first the brimming draught is given, 
By toil made welcome as the dews of heaven, 



38 SUMMER. 



Harvest-field refreshment....The Cart-horse. v. 191 . 

And never lip that pressM its homely edge 
Had kinder blessings or a heartier pledge. 

Of wholesome viands here a banquet smiles, 
A common cheer for all ;...e'en humble Giles, 
Who joys his trivial services to }'ield 
Amidst the fragrance of the open field; 
Oft doomed in suffocating heat to bear 
The cobweb'd barn's impure and dusty air; 
To ride in murky state the panting steed, 
Destined aloft th' unloaded grain to tread, 
Where, in his path as heaps on heaps are thrown, 
He rears, and plunges the loose mountain down: 
Laborious task! with what delight when done 
Both horse and rider greet th* unclouded sun! 

Yet by th' unclouded sun are hourly bred 
The bold assailants that surround thine head, 
Poor, patient Ball! and with insulting wing 
Roar in thine ears, and dart the piercing sting: 



SUMMER. 39 



v, 209. Docking of horses condemned. 

In thy behalf the crest- wav'd boughs avail 
More than thy short-clipt remnant of a tail, 
A moving mockery, a* useless name, 
A living proof of cruelty and shame. 
Shame to the man, whatever fame he bore, 
Who took from thee what man can ne'er restore, 
Thy weapon of defence, thy chiefest good, 
When swarming flies contending suck thy blood. 
Nor thine alone the suffering, thine the care, 
The fretful Ewe bemoans an equal share ; 
Tormented into sores, her head she hides, 
Or angry sweeps them from her new-shorn sides. 
Penn'd in the yard, e-en now at closing day 
Unruly Cows with markM impatience stay, 
And vainly striving to escape their foes, 
The pail kick down ; a piteous current flows. 

Is't not enough that plagues like these molest? 
Must still another foe annoy their rest? 



40 SUMMER. 



The Gander. v. 227. 



He comes, the pest and terror of the yard, 
His full-fledg'd progeny's imperious guard; 
The Gander;. ..spiteful, insolent, and bold, 
At the colt's footlock takes his daring hold : 
There, serpent like, escapes a dreadful blow; 
And straight attacks a poor defenceless cow : 
Each booby Goose th' unworthy strife enjoys, 
And hails his prowess with redoubled noise. 
Then back he stalks, of self-importance full, 
Seizes the shaggy foretop of the Bull, 
Till whirlM aloft he falls; a timely check, 
Enough to dislocate his worthless neck: 
For lo ! of old, he boasts an honoured wound; 
Behold that broken wing that trails the ground ! 
Thus fools and bravoes kindred pranks pursue; 
As savage quite, and oft as fatal too. 
Happy the man that foils an envious elf, 
Using the darts of spleen to serve himself. 



SUMMER* 41 



v. 245. Swine....Repose of Twilight. 

As when by turns the strolling Swine engage 
The utmost efforts of the bully's rage, 
Whose nibbling warfare on the grunter's side 
Is welcome pleasure to his bristly hide ; 
Gently he stoops, or stretcht at ease along, 
Enjoys the insults of the gabbling throng, 
That march exulting round his fallen head, 
As human victors trample on their dead. 

Still Twilight, welcome! Rest, how sweet art thou! 
Now eve overhangs the western cloud's thick brow: 
The far-stretch'd curtain of retiring light, 
With fiery treasures fraught; that on the sight 
Flash from its bulging sides, where darkness lours, 
In Fancy's eye, a chain of mould'ring tow'rs; 
Or craggy coasts just rising into view, 
Midst jav'lins dire, and darts of streaming blue. 

Anpn tir'd laborers bless their sheltering home, 
When Midnight, and the frightful Tempest come. 



+2 SUMMER. 



Midnight....Tempest. v. 263. 



The Farmer wakes, and sees with silent dread 
The angry shafts of Heayen gleam round his bed; 
The bursting cloud reiterated roars, 
Shakes his straw roof, and jars his bolted doors: 
The slow-wing'd storm along the troubled skies 
Spreads its dark course; the wind begins to rise; 
And full-leaf M elms, his dwelling's shade by day, 
With mimic thunder give its fury way: 
Sounds in his chimney top a doleful peal 
Midst pouring rain, or gusts of rattling hail ; 
With tenfold danger low the tempest bends, 
And quick and strong the sulphurous flame descends* 
The frightenM Mastiff from his kennel flies, 
And cringes at the door with piteous cries.... 

Where now's the trifler? where the child of pride? 
These are the moments when the heart is try'd ! 
Nor lives the man, with conscience e'er so cleaiy 
But feels a solemn, reverential fearj 



S U M M E R. 4S 



v. 281. Harvest-home. 



Feels too a joy relieve his aching breast, 
When the spent storm hath howPd itself to rest. 
Still, welcome beats the long-continued show'r, 
And sleep protracted, comes with double pow'r j 
Calm dreams of bliss bring on the morning sun, 
For every barn is fill'd, and Harvest done! 

Now, ere sweet Summer bids its long adieu, 
And winds blow keen where late the blossom grew, 
The bustling day and jovial night must come, 
The long-accustom'd feast of Harvest-home. 
No blood-stain'd victory, in story bright, 
Can give the philosophic mind delight y 
No triumph please, while rage and death destroy: 
Reflection sickens at the monstrous joy. 
And where the joy, if rightly understood, 
Like cheerful praise for universal good ? 
The soul nor check nor doubtful anguish knows, 
But free and pure the grateful current flows. 



44 SUMMER. 



Freedom and equal joy of the Feast. v. 299. 

Behold the sound oak table's massy frame 
Bestride the kitchen floor ! the careful dame 
And gen'rous host invite their friends around, 
While all that cleared the crop, or tilled the ground, 
Are guests by right of custom:... old and young; 
And many a neighbouring yeoman join the throng, 
With artisans that lent their dexterous aid, 
When o'er each field the flaming sunbeams play'd. 

Yet Plenty reigns, and from her boundless hoard, 
Though not one jelly trembles on the board, 
Supplies the feast with all that sense can crave; 
With all that made our great forefathers brave, 
Ere the cloy'd palate countless flavours try'd, 
And cooks had Nature's judgment set aside. 
With thanks to Heaven, and tales of rustic lore, 
The mansion echoes when the banquet's o'er; 
A wider circle spreads, and smiles abound, 
As quick the frothing horn performs its round ; 



SUMMER. '45 

v. 317. Ancient equality of this Festival. 

Care's mortal foe; that sprightly joys imparts 
To cheer the frame and elevate their hearts. 
Here, fresh and brown, the hazel's produce lies 
In tempting heaps, and peals of laughter rise, 
And crackling Music, with the frequent Song, 
Unheeded bear the midnight hour along. 

Here once a year Distinction low'rs its crest, 
The master, servant, and the merry guest, 
Are equal all; and round the happy ring 
The reaper's eyes exulting glances fling, 
And, warmM with gratitude, he quits his place, 
With sun^burnt hands and ale-enliven'd face, 
Refills the jug his honoured host to tend, 
To serve at once the master and the friend; 
Proud thus to meet his smiles, to share his tale, 
His nuts, his conversation, and his ale. 

Such were the days,... of days long past I sing, 
When Pride gave place to mirth without a sting; 



45 SUMMER. 



Contrast of modern usage. ▼. 335. 

Ere tyrant customs strength sufficient bore 
To violate the Feelings of the poor; 
To leave them distanc'd in the mad'ning race, 
Where'er refinement shows its hated face: 
Nor causeless hated;... 'tis" the peasant's curse, 
That hourly makes his wretched station worse.; 
Destroys life's intercourse; the social plan 
That rank to rank cements, as man to man : 
Wealth flows around him, Fashion lordly reigns; 
Yet ^poverty is his, and mental pains. 

Methinks I hear the mourner thus impart 
The stifled murmurs of his wounded heart: 

* Whence comes this change,ungracious,irksome,cold? 
4 Whence the new grandeur that mine eyes behold ? 

* The widening distance which I daily see, 

9 Has Wealth done this?... then Wealth's a foe to me; 
' Foe to our rights; that leaves a powerful few 
' The paths of emulation to pursue : . . . . 



SUMMER. 47 



t. 353. Subject continued. 



' For emulation stoops to us no more : 
'The hope of humble industry is o'er; 
' The blameless hope, the cheering sweet presage 
' Of future comforts for declining age. 
'* Can my sons share from this paternal hand 

* The profits with the labours of the land? 

'No; though indulgent Heaven its blessing deigns, 
' Where's the small farm to suit my scanty means? 

* Content, the Poet sings, with us resides; 

' In lonely cots like mine the Damsel hides; 
' And will he then in raptur'd visions tell 

* That sweet Content with Want can ever dwell ? 
' A barley loaf, 'tis true, my table crowns, 

6 That, fast diminishing in lusty rounds, 

\ Stops Nature's cravings; yet her sighs will flow 

* From knowing this,. ...that once it was not so. 

' Our annual feast, when Earth her plenty yields, 

* When crown'd with boughs the last load quits the fields, 



48 SUMMER. 



Continued. v. 371. 



'The aspect still of ancient joy puts on; 
' The aspect only, with the substance gone: 
' The self-same horn is still at our command, 
' But serves none now but the plebeian hand : 

* For home-brew' d Me, neglected and debased, 
'Is quite discarded from the realms of taste. 

' Where unaffected Freedom charm'd the soul, 
' The separate table and the costly bowl, 

* Cool as the blast that checks the budding Spring, 
' A mockery of gladness round them fling. 

* For oft the Farmer, ere his heart approves, 

' Yields up the custom which he dearly loves: 

' Refinement forces on him like a tide ; 

' Bold innovations down its current ride, 

' That bear no peace beneath their showy dress, 

' Nor add one tittle to his happiness. 

' His guests selected ; rank's punctilios known ; 

* What trouble waits upon a casual frown ! 



SUMMER. 49 



v. 389. Continued. 



* Restraint's foul manacles his pleasures maim; 
' Selected guests selected phrases claim: 

* Nor reigns that joy, when hand in hand they join, 

* That good old Master felt in shaking mine. 

* Heaven bless his memory! bless his honour'd name! 
' (The Poor will speak his lasting worthy fame:) 

< To souls fair-purpos'd strength and guidance give.; 

< In pity to us still let goodness live: 

% Let labour have its due ! my cot shall be 
c From chilling want and guilty murmurs free : 
' Let labour have its due; then peace is mine, 
' And never, never shall my heart repine/ 






AUTUM N. 



ARCxUMENT. 

Acorns. Hogs in the Wood. Wheat-sowing. The 
Church. Village Girls. The mad Girl. The Bird- 
Boy s Hut. Disappointment; Reflections, fyc. 
Euston-hall. Fox-hunting. Old Trouncer. Long 
lights. A Welcome to Winter. 




AUTUMN. 

in. 

Again, the year's decline, midst storms and floods. 
The thundering chase, the yellow fading woods, 
Invite my song; that fain would boldly tell 
Of upland coverts, and the echoing dell, 
By turns resounding loud, at eve and morn 
The swineherd's halloo, or the huntsman's horn. 

No more the fields with scatter'd grain supply 
The restless wandering tenants of the sty ; 



• 



54 AUTUMN. 



Wood-scenery.... Swine and pigs feeding on fallen acorns. v. 9. 

From oak to oak they run with eager haste, 
And wrangling share the first delicious taste 
Of fallen Acorns; yet but thinly found 
Till the strong gale has shook them to the ground. 
It comes; and roaring woods obedient wave: 
Their home w 7 ell pleas'd the joint adventurers leave: 
The trudging Sow leads forth her numerous young, 
Playful, and white, and clean, the briars among, 
Till briars and thorns increasing, fence them round, 
Where last year'smould'ringleavesbestrewthe ground, 
And o'er their heads, loud lash'd by furious squalls, 
Bright from their cups the rattling treasure falls; 
Hot, thirsty food ; whence doubly sweet and cool 
The welcome margin of some rush-grown pool, 
The Wild Duck's lonely haunt, w 7 hose jealous eye 
Guards every point; who sits, prepared to fly, 
On the calm bosom of her little lake, 
Too closely screened for ruffian winds to shake; 



• 



AUTUMN. 55 



v. 27. Wild Ducks among the sedges. 

And as the bold intruders press around, 

At once she starts, and rises with a bound : 

With bristles rais'd the sudden noise they hear, 

And ludicrously wild, and wing'd with fear, 

The herd decamp with more than swinish speed, 

And snorting dash through sedge, and rush, and reedr 

Through tangling thickets headlong on they go, 

Then stop and listen for their fancied foe; 

The hindmost still the growing panic spreads, 

Repeated fright the first alarm succeeds. 

Till Folly's wages, wounds and thorns, they reap : 

Yet glorying in their fortunate escape, 

Their groundless terrors by degrees soon cease, 

And Night's dark reign restores their wonted peace. 

For now the gale subsides, and from each bough 

The roosting Pheasant's short but frequent crow 

Invites to rest ; and huddling side by side, 

The herd in closest ambush seek to hide j 



56 AUTUMN. 



Hogs wander in the wood....Husbandman 5 s prospective care. v. 45. 

Seek some warm slope with shagged moss overspread 
Dry'd leaves their copious covering and their bed, 
In vain may Giles, through gathering glooms that fall, 
And solemn silence, urge his piercing call : 
Whole days and nights they tarry midst their store, 
Nor quit the woods till oaks can yield no more. 

Beyond bleak Winter's rage, beyond the Spring 
That rolling Earth's unvarying course will bring, 
Who tills the ground looks on with mental eye, 
And sees next Summer's sheaves and cloudless sky; 
And even now, whilst Nature's beauty dies, 
Deposits Seed, and bids new Harvests rise ; 
Seed well prepared, and warm'd with glowing lime, 
'Gainst earth-bred grubs, and cold, and lapse of time: 
For searching frosts and various ills invade. 
Whilst wintry months depress the springing blade. 
The plow moves heavily, and strong the soil, 
And clogging harrows with augmented toil 



AUTUMN. 57 



v. «3. Village Bells. 



Dive deep : and clinging, mixes with the mould 
A fatt'ning treasure from the nightly fold, 
And all the cow-yard*s highly valu'd store r 
That late bestrew'd the blacken'd surface o'er. 
No idling hours are here, when Fancy trims 
Her dancing taper over outstretch'd limbs, 
And in her thousand thousand colours drest, 
Plays round the grassy couch of noontide rest: 
Here Giles for hours of indolence atones 
With strong exertion, and with weary bones, 
And knows no leisure; till the distant chime 
Of Sabbath bells he hears at sermon time, 
That down the brook sound sweetly in the gale, 
Or strike the rising hill, or skim the dale. 

Nor his alone the sweets of ease to taste: 
Kind rest extends to all;.... save one poor beast, 
That true to time and pace, is doom'd to plod, 
To bring the Pastor to the House of God: 



58 ADTUM N. 



The Church ; and Church-Yard,. ..Village Conversation. v. 81. 

Mean structure; where no bones of heroes lie ! 
The rude inelegance of poverty 
Reigns here alone : else why that roof of straw ? 
Those narrow windows with the frequent flaw? 
O'er whose low cells the dock and mallow spread. 
And rampant nettles lift the spiry head, 
Whilst from the hollows of the tower on high 
The grey cappM Daws in saucy legions fly. 

Round these lone walls assembling neighbours meet.. 
And tread departed friends beneath their feet; 
And new-briar'd graves, that prompt the secret siglv 
Show each the spot where he himself must lie. 

Midst timely greetings village news goes round, 
Of crops late shorn, or crops that deck the ground; 
Experienced plowmen in the circle join ; 
While sturdy boys, in feats of strength to shine, 
With pride elate, their young associates brave 
To jump from hollow-sounding grave to grave; 



AUTUMN. 59 



v. 99. Village Girls.. ..The poor distracted young Woman. 

Then close consulting, each his talent lends 
To plan fresh sports when tedious service ends. 

Hither at times, with cheerfulness of soul, 
Sweet village Maids from neighbouring hamlets stroll, 
That like the light-heel'd does o'er lawns that rove. 
Look shyly curious; rip'ning into love; 
For love's their errand : hence the tints that glow 
On either cheek, a heightened lustre know: 
When, conscious of their charms, e'en Age looks sly, 
And rapture beams from Youth's observant eye. 

The pride of such a party, Nature's pride, 
Was lovely Poll *; who innocently try'd, 
With hat of airy shape and ribbons gay, 
Love to inspire, and stand in Hymen's way: 
But, ere her twentieth Summer could expand, 
Or youth was render'd happy with her hand, 
Her mind's serenity was lost and gone, 
Her eye grew languid, and she wept alone : 
* Mary Rayner, of Ixworth Thorp. 



60 



AUTUMN. 



The Subject continued. 



Yet causeless seem'd her grief; for quick restrained, j 
Mirth followed loud ; or indignation reigned: 
Whims wild and simple led her from her home, 
The heath, the common, or the fields to roam: 
Terror and Joy alternate rul'd her hours; 
Now blithe she sung, and gathered useless flow'rs; 
Now pluck'd a tender twig from every bough, 
To whip the hov'ring demons from her brow. 
Ill-fated Maid ! thy guiding spark is fled, 
And lasting wretchedness awaits thy bed.... 
Thy bed of straw ! for mark, where even now 
O'er their lgst child afflicted parents bow; 
Their woe she knows not, but perversely coy, 
Inverted customs yield her sullen joy; 
Her midnight meals in secrecy she takes, 
Low mutt'ring to the moon, that rising breaks 
Thro' night's dark gloom: .. .oh how much more forlorn 
Htr night, that knows of no returning morn!.. . 



AUTUMN. 61 



v. 135. Continued. 



Slow from the threshold, once her infant seat, 
O'er the cold earth she crawls to her retreat; 
Quitting the cot's warm walls, unhous'd to lie, 
Or share the swine's impure and narrow sty; 
The damp night air her shivering limbs assails ; 
In dreams she moans, and fancied wrongs bewails. 
When Morning wakes, none earlier rous'd than she, 
When pendent drops fall glitt'ring from the tree; 
But nought her rayless melancholy cheers, 
Or sooths her breast, or stops her streaming tears* 
Her matted locks unornamented flow; 
Clasping her knees, and waving to and fro;... 
Her head bow'd down, her faded cheek to hide ;.-* 
A piteous mourner by the pathway side. 
Some tufted molehill through the livelong day 
She calls her throne; there weeps her life away: 
And oft the gaily-passing stranger stays 
His well-tim'd step, and takes a silent gaze, 



62 AUTUMN. 



Continued. v. 153. 



Till sympathetic drops unbidden start, 
And pangs quick springing muster round his heart; 
And soft he treads with other gazers round, 
And fain would catch her sorrow's plaintive sound: 
One word alone is all that strikes the ear, 
One short, pathetic, simple word,..." Oh dear!" 
A thousand times repeated to the wind,. 
That wafts the sigh, but leaves the pang behind ! 
For ever of the profferM parley shy, 
She hears th'unwelcome foot advancing nigh; 
Nor quite unconscious of her wretched plight,. 
Gives one sad look, and hurries out of sight.... 
Fair promised sunbeams of terrestrial bliss, 
Health's gallant hopes,... and are ye sunk to this? 
For in life's road though thorns abundant grow,. 
There still are joys poor Poll can never know; 
Joys which the gay companions of her prime 
Sip, as they drift along the stream of time; 



AUTUMN. 63 



Chickens housed. 



At eve to hear beside their tranquil home 
The lifted latch, that speaks the lover come : 
That love matured, next playful on the knee 
To press the velvet lip of infancy; 
To stay the tottering step, the features trace;.., 
Inestimable sweets of social peace ! 

O Thou, who bidst the vernal juices rise ! 
Thou, on whose blasts autumnal foliage flies ! 
Let Peace ne'er leave me, nor my heart grow cold > 
Whilst life and sanity are mine to hold. 

Shorn of their flow'rs that shed th'untreasur'd seed, 
The withering pasture, and the fading mead, 
Less tempting grown, diminish more and more, 
The dairy's pride; sweet Summer's flowing store. 
New cares succeed, and gentle duties press, 
Where the fire-side, a school of tenderness, 
Revives the languid chirp, and warms the blood 
Of cold-nipt weaklings of the latter brood, 



6i AUTUM N. 

Bird keeping....The Hut. r. 18fc 

That from the shell just bursting into day, 
Through yard or pond pursue their venturous way. 

Far weightier cares and wider scenes expand; 
What devastation marks the new-sown land ! 
" From hungry woodland foes go, Giles, and guard 
The rising wheat; ensure its great reward: 
A future sustenance, a Summer's pride, 
Demand thy vigilance : then be it try'd : 
Exert thy voice, and wield thy shotless gun : 
<jo, tarry there from morn till setting sun." 

Keen blows the blast, or ceaseless rain descends; 
The half-stript hedge a sorry shelter lends. 
O for a Hovel, e'er so small or low, 
Whose roof, repelling winds and early snow, 
Might bring home's comforts fresh before his eyes! 
No sooner thought, than see the structure rise, 
In some sequester' d nook, embank'd around, 
Sods for its walls, and straw in burdens bound : 



^S.'U'! 




AUTUM N. 65 



y. 207. The pleasures of the Hut 

Dried fuel hoarded is his richest store, 

And circling smoke obscures his little door; 

Whence creeping forth, to duty's call he yields, 

And strolls the Crusoe of the lonely fields. 

On whitethorns tow'ring, and the leafless rose, 

A frost-nipt feast in bright vermilion glows: 

Where clustering sloes in glossy order rise, 

He crops the loaded branch; a cumbrous prize; 

And o'er the flame the sputtering fruit he rests, 

Placing green sods to seat his coming guests; 

His guests by promise; playmates young and gay:... 

But ah ! fresh pastimes lure their steps away ! 

He sweeps his hearth, and homeward looks in vain, 

Till feeling Disappointment's cruel pain, 

His fairy revels are exchanged for rage, 

His banquet marr'd, grown dull his hermitage*. 

The field becomes his prison, till on high 

Benighted birds to shades and coverts fly s 

F 



AUTUMN. 



The Disappointment.... Compared with greater. v. 525. 

Midst air, health, daylight, can he prisoner be? 
If fields are prisons, where is Liberty? 
Here still she dwells, and here her votaries stroll; 
But disappointed hope untunes the soul: 
Restraints unfelt whilst hours of rapture flow, 
When troubles press, to chains and barriers grow. 
Look then from trivial up to greater woes; 
From the poor bird-boy 'with his roasted sloes, 
To where the dungeon'd mourner heaves the sigh; 
Where not one cheering sun-beam meets his eye. 
Though ineffectual pity thine may be, 
No wealth, no pow'r, to set the captive free; 
Though only to thy ravishM sight is given 
The radiant path that Howard trod to heaven ; 
Thy slights can make the wretched more forlorn, 
And deeper drive affliction's barbed thorn. 
Say not, " Til come and cheer thy gloomy cell 
With news of dearest friends; how good, how well : 



AUTUMN. 67 



v. 243. The cruelty of disappointing expectation. 

I'll be a joyful herald to thine heart:" 
Then fail, and play the worthless trifler's part, 
To sip flat pleasures from thy glasses brim, 
And waste the precious hour that's due to him. 
In mercy spare the base, unmanly blow : 
Where can he turn, to whom complain of you? 
Back to past joys in vain his thoughts may stray, 
Trace and retrace the beaten, worn-out way, 
The rankling injury will pierce his breast, 
And curses on thee break his midnight rest. 
Bereft of song, and ever-cheering green, 
The soft endearments of the Summer scene, 
New harmony pervades the solemn wood, 
Dear to the soul, and healthful to the blood : 
For bold exertion follows on the sound 
Of distant Sportsmen, and the chiding Hound ; 
First heard from kennel bursting, mad with joy, 
Where smiling Euston boasts her good Fitzrqy, 



63 A U T U M N. 

Euston Hall... .Fox-hunting. v. 261. 

Lord of pure alms, and gifts that wide extend ; 
The farmer's patron, and the poor man's friend: 
Whose Mansion glitters with the eastern ray, 
Whose elevated temple points the way, 
O'er slopes and lawns, the park's extensive pride, 
To where the victims of the chace reside, 
Ingulf 'd in earth, in conscious safety warm, 
Till io ! a plot portends their coming harm. 

In earliest hours of dark and hooded morn, 
Ere yet one rosy cloud bespeaks the dawn, 
Whilst far abroad the Fox pursues his prey. 
He's doom'd to risk the perils of the day, 
From his strong hold block'd out; perhaps to bleed, 
Or owe his life to fortune or to speed. 
For now the pack, impatient rushing on, 
Range through the darkest coverts one by one; 
Trace every spot; whilst down each noble glade 
That guides the eye beneath a changeful shade, 



ACTUM N. 69 



v. 279- The horn and cry of the Hounds.. ..The Hunter. 

The loit'ring sportsman feels th' instinctive flame, 

And checks his steed to mark the springing game. 

Midst intersecting cuts and winding ways 

The huntsman cheers his dogs, and anxious strays 

Where every narrow riding, even shorn, 

Gives back the echo of his mellow horn: 

Till fresh and lightsome, every power untried, 

The starting fugitive leaps by his side, 

His lifted finger to his ear he plies, 

And the view-halloo bids a chorus rise 

OfDogsquick-mouth'd, and shouts that mingle loud, 

As bursting thunder rolls from cloud to cloud. 

With ears erect, and chest of vigorous mould, 

O'er ditch, o'er fence, unconquerably bold, 

The shining courser lengthens every bound, 

And his strong foot-locks suck the moisten'd ground, 

As from the confines of the wood they pour, 

And joyous villages partake the ioac. 



70 AUTUMN. 



The Fox-hound. v. 297. 



O'er heath far stretch'd, or down, or valley low, 
The stifF-limbM peasant, glorying in the show, 
Pursues in vain; where Youth itself soon tires, 
Spite of the transports that the chace inspires; 
For who unmounted long can charm the eye, 
Or hear the music of the leading cry? 

Poor faithful Trouncer! thou canst lead no more; 
All thy fatigues and all thy triumphs o'er ! 
Triumphs of worth, whose long-excelling fame 
Was still to follow true the hunted game ; 
Beneath enormous oaks, Britannia's boast, 
In thick, impenetrable coverts lost, 
When the warm pack in fault'ring silence stood, 
Thine was the note that rous'd the list'ning wood, 
Rekindling every joy with tenfold force, 
Through all the mazes of the tainted course. 
Still foremost thou the dashing stream to cross, 
And tempt along the animated horse; 



AUTUMN. 71 



Not the worst subject of Poetry. 



Foremost o'er fen or level mead to pass, 

And sweep the showering dew-drops from the grass; 

Then bright emerging from the mist below 

To climb the woodland hill's exulting brow. 

Pride of thy race ! with worth far less than thine, 
Full many human leaders daily shine ! 
Less faith, less constancy, less generous zeal!.... 
Then no disgrace my humble verse shall feel> 
Where not one lying line to riches bows, 
Or poison'd sentiment from rancour flows; 
Nor flowers are strewn around Ambition's car:.... 
An honest Dog's a nobler theme by far. 
Each sportsman heard the tidings with a sigh, 
When Death's cold touch had stopt his tuneful cry; 
And though high deeds, and fair exalted praise, 
In memory liv'd, and flow'd in rustic lays, 
Short was the strain of monumental woe : 
" Foxes rejoice! here buried lies your foe* " 

* Inscribed on a stone in Euston Park wall. 



72 AUTU M N. 



Midnight....Domestic FowL-..Shorter/d boors. v. 333-. 

Ill safety hous'd, throughout Night's length' ning reign, 
The Cock sends forth a loud and piercing strain; 
More frequent, as the glooms of midnight flee, 
And hours roll round, that brought him liberty, 
When Summer's early dawn, mi!d A clear, and bright, 
ChasM quick away the transitory night:.... 
Hours now in darkness veilM; yet loud the scream 
Of Geese impatient for the playful stream 5 
And all the featherM tribe imprisoned raise 
Their morning notes of inharmonious praise; 
And many a clamorous Hen and cockrel gay, 
When daylight slowly through the fog breaks way, 
Fly wantonly abroad : but, ah, how soon 
The shades of twilight follow hazy noon, 
Short'ning the busy day !....day that slides by 
Amidst th* unfinished toils of Husbandry ; 
Toils still each morn resum'd with double care, 
To meet the icy terrors of the year; 



AUTUMN. 



73 



Closing Reflections. 



To meet the threats of Boreas undismayed, - 
And Winters gathering frowns and hoary head. 

Then welcome, cold ; welcome, ye snowy nights ! 
Heaven midst your rage'shall mingle pure delights. 
And confidence of hope the soul sustain, 
While devastation sweeps along the plain : 
Nor shall the child of poverty despair, 
But bless the Power that rules the changing year; 
Assured,.... though horrors round his cottage reign,... 
That Spring will come, and Nature smile again. 



J& 




WINTER. 






ARGUMENT. 

Tenderness to Cattk. Frozen Turnips. The Cos -yard* 
Night. The Farm-house. Fireside. Farmer s 
Advice and Instruction. Nightly Cares of the 
Stable. Dobbin. The Post-horse. Sheep- stealing 
Dogs. Walks occasioned thereby. The Ghost. 
Lamb time. Beiurning Spring. Conclusion. 




WINTER. 



IV. 



IvV ith kindred pleasures movM, and cares opprest, 
Sharing alike our weariness and rest; 
Who lives the daily partner of our hours, 
Through every change of heat, and frost,and show'rs; 
Partakes our cheerful meals, partaking first 
In mutual labour and fatigue and thirst; 
The kindly intercourse will ever prove 
A bond of amity and social love. 






78 WINTER. 



Benevolence springing from mutual sufferings and pleasures. v. 9. 

To more than man this generous warmth extends, 

And oft the team and shivering herd befriends; 

Tender solicitude the bosom fills, 

And Pity executes what Reason wills : 

Youth learns compassion's tale from ev'ry tongue, 

And flies to aid the helpless and the young; 

When now, unsparing as the scourge of war, 
Blasts follow blasts, and groves dismantled roar, 
Around their home the storm-pi nch'd Cattle lows, 
No nourishment in frozen pastures grows; 
Yet frozen pastures every morn resound 
With fair abundance thund'ring to the ground. 
For though on hoary twigs no buds peep out, 
And e'en the hardy brambles cease to sprout, 
Beneath dread Winter's level sheets of snow 
The sweet nutritious Turnip deigns to grow. 
Till now imperious want and wide-spread dearth 
Bid Labour claim her treasures from the earth. 



WINTER. 79 



v. 27. Ice broken and Snow cleared for the Cattle. 

On Giles, and such as Giles, the labour falls, 
To strew the frequent load where hunger calls. 
On driving gales sharp hail indignant flies, 
And sleet, more irksome still, assails his eyes; 
Snow clogs his feet; or if no snow is seen, 
The field with all its juicy store to screen, 
Deep goes the frost, till every root is found 
A rolling mass of ice upon the ground. 
No tender ewe can break her nightly fast, 
Nor heifer strong begin the cold repast, 
Till Giles with ponderous beetle foremost go, 
And scattering splinters fly at every blow; 
When pressing round him, eager for the prize, 
From their mixt breath warm exhalations rise. 
In beaded rows if drops now deck the spray, 
I While the sun grants a momentary ray, 
Let but a cloud's broad shadow intervene, 
And stiffen'd into gems the drops are seen; 






SO W I N T E R. 



v. !£>. 



And down the furrowM oak's broad southern side 
Streams of dissolving rime no longer glide. 

Though Night approaching bids for rest prepare. 
Still the flail echoes through the frosty air, 
Nor stops till deepest shades of darkness come, 
Sending at length the weary Labourer home. 
From him, with bed and nightly food supplied, 
Throughout the yard, hous'd round on ev'ry side, 
Deep-plunging Cows their rustling feast enjoy, 
And snatch sweet mouthfuls from the passing Boy, 
Who moves unseen beneath his trailing load, 
Fills the tall racks, and leaves a scattered road; 
Where oft the swine from ambush warm and dry 
Bolt out, and scamper headlong to their sty, 
When Giles with well-known voice, already there, 
Deigns them a portion of his evening care. 

Him, though th e cold may pierce, and storms molest, 
Succeeding hours shall cheer with warmth and rest; 



dill 

I 

flit 




WINTER. 81 



Christmas Fire. 



Gladness to spread, and raise the grateful smile, 

He hurls the faggot bursting from the pile, 

And many a log and rifted trunk conyeys, 

To heap the fire, and wide extend the blaze, 

That quivering strong through every opening flies, 

Whilst smoky columns unobstructed rise. 

For the rude architect, unknown to fame, 

(Nor symmetry nor elegance his aim) 

Who spread his floors of solid oak on high, 

On beams rough-hewn, from age to age that lie, 

Bade his wide Fabric unimpaired sustain 

The orchard's store, and cheese, and golden grain; 

Bade, from its central base, capacious laid, 

The well-wrought chimney rear its lofty head; 

Where since hath many a savoury ham been stor'd. 

And tempests howPd, and Christmas gambols roar'd. 

tFlat on the hearth the glowing embers lie, 
nd flames reflected dance in every eye: 



82 WINTE R. 



Conversation of the Master with the Farmer's Eoy. v. 81. 

There the long billet, forc'd at last to bend, 

While gushing sap froths out at either end, 

Throws round its welcome heat:.. the plowman smiles, 

And oft the joke runs hard on sheepish Giles, 

Who sits joint tenant of the corner-stool, 

The converse sharing, though in duty's school; 

For now attentively 'tis his to hear 

Interrogations from the Master's chair. 

' Left ye your bleating charge, when day-light fled, 

* Near where the hay-stack lifts its snowy head ? 

' Whose fence of bushy furze, so close and warm, 
1 May stop the slanting bullets of the storm. 

* For, hark ! it blows; a dark and dismal night: 

4 Heaven guide the traveller's fearful steps aright ! 

* Now from the w T oods, mistrustful and sharp-ey'd, 
' The Fox in silent darkness seems to glide, 

' Stealing around us, list'ning as he goes, 

' If chance the Cock or stamm'ring Capon erows, 



) 



WINTER. S3 



v. 99. Motives to reconcile the tanner's Boy to his Situation. 

• Or Goose, or nodding Buck, should darkling cry, 

' As if appriz'd of lurking danger nigh: 

' Destruction waits them, Giles,, if e'er you fail 

' To bolt their doors against the driving gale. 

e Strew'd you (still mindful of th' unsheltered head) 

' Burdens of straw, the cattle's welcome bed ? 

' Thine heartshould feel, what thou may'st hourly see, 

' That dutys basis is humanity. 

e Of pain's unsavoury cup though thou may'st taste, 

' (The wrath of Winter from the bleak north-east,) 

' Thine utmost sufferings in the coldest day 

' A period terminates, and joys repay. 

' Perhaps e'en now, while here those joys we boast, 

' Full many a bark rides down the neighb'ring coast, 

f Where the high northern waves tremendous roar, 

* Drove down by blasts from Norway s icy shore. 

* The Sea-boy there, less fortunate than thou, 

< Feels all thy pains in all the gusts that blow; 



84 WINTER. 



Contrast with the Sea-Boy... .Effect of kind Admonitions. v. 117. 

c His freezing hands now drenched, now dry, by turns; 
c Now lost, now seen, the distant light that burns, 
c On some tali cliff uprais'd, a flaming guide, 
c That throws its friendly radiance o'er the tide, 
' His labours cease not with declining day, 

* But toils and perils mark his wat'ry way; 

r And whilst in peaceful dreams secure we lie, 

* The ruthless whirlwinds rage along the sky, 

' Round his head whistling;. ..and shalt thou repine, 
' While this protecting roof still shelters thine !' 
Mild, as the vernal show'r, his words prevail. 
And aid the moral precept of his tale ; 
His wond'ring hearers learn, and ever keep 
These first ideas of the restless deep; 
And, as the opening mind a circuit trie*, 
Present felicities in value rise. 
Increasing pleasures every hour they find, 
The warmth more precious, and the shelter kind; 



WINTER. 85 



v. 135. Sleep.. .renewed labour.. .Plowman's care of his Horses. 

Warmth that long reigning bids the eyelids close, 
As through the blood its balmy influence goes, 
When the cheer'd heart forgets fatigues and cares, 
And drowsiness alone dominion bears. 

Sweet then the plowman's slumbers, hale and young* 
When the last topic dies upon his tongue ; 
Sweet then the bliss his transient dreamt inspire, 
Till chilblains wake him, or the snapping fire: 

He starts, and ever thoughtful of his team,, 
Along the glitt'ring snow a feeble gleam 
Shoots from his lantern, as he yawning goes 
To add fresh comforts to their night's repose; 
Diffusing fragrance as their food he moves, 
And pats the jolly sides of those he loves. 
Thus full replenish'd, perfect ease possest, 
From night till morn alternate food and rest, 

I No rightful cheer withheld, no sleep debarr'd, 
_ 



S6 WINTER. 



The Farmer's and Fost-horse contrasted. v. 153 

Yet when from plow or lumb'ring cart set free, 

They taste awhile the sweets of liberty > 

E'en sober Dobbin lifts his clumsy heel 

And kicks, disdainful of the dirty wheel; 

But soon, his frolic ended, yields again 

To trudge the road, and wear the clinking chain. 

Short-sighted Dobbin !...thou canst only see 
The trivial hardships that encompass thee : 
Thy chains were freedom, and thy t$>ils repose, 
Could the poor post-horse tell thee allows woes; 
Show thee his bleeding shoulders, and unfold 
The dreadful anguish he endures for go4d : 
Hir'd at each call of business, lust, or rage, 
That prompts the traveler on from stage to stage. 
Still on his strength depends their boasted speed ; 
For them his limbs grow weak, his bare ribs bleed ; 
And though he groaning quickens at command, 
Their extra shilling in the rider's hand 



WINTE R. 87 



The Sufferings of the Post-horse continued. 



Becomes his bitter scourge ;../tis he must feel 
The double efforts of the lash and steel; 
Till when, up hill, the destined inn he gains, 
And trembling under complicated pains, 
Prone from his nostrils, darting on the ground, 
His breath emitted floats in clouds around: 
Drops chase each other down his chest and sides, 
And spatter'd mud his native colour hides: 
Through his swoln veins tke boiling torrent flows, 
And every n«jve a separate torture knows. 
His harness loos'd, he welcomes, eager-eyed, 
The painfull draught that quivers by his side; 
And joys to see the well-known stable door, 
As the starv'd mariner the friendly shore. 

Ah, well for him if here his sufferings ceas'd, 
And ample hours of rest his pains appeas'd ! 
But rous'd again, and sternly bade to rise, 
And shake refreshing slumber from his eyes, 



88 WINTE R. 



Patience recommended from comparison. v. 1F9. 

Ere his exhausted spirits can return, 

Or through his frame reviving ardour burn, 

Come forth he must, though limping, maimM, and sore; 

He hears the whip; the chaise is at the door:... 

The collar tightens, and again he feels 

His half-heaPd wounds inflamM; again the wheels 

With tiresome sameness in his ears resound, 

O'er blinding dust, or miles of flinty ground. 

Thus nightly robbM, and injured day by day, 

His piece-meal' murderers wear his life away. 

What say'stthcu, Dobbin? what though houndsawait 
With open jaws the moment of thy fate, j 
No better fate attends his public race; 
His life is misery, and his end disgrace. 
Then freely bear thy burden to the mill ; 
Obey but one short law,... thy drivers will. 
Affection, to thy memory ever true, 
Shall boast of mighty loads that Dobbin drew; 



W I N T E R. 89 



y. 207. The Mastiff. 



And back to childhood shall the mind with pride 
Recount thy gentleness in many a ride 
To pond, or field, or Village-fair, when thou 
Held'st high thy braided mane and comely brow; 
And oft the Tale shall rise to homely fame 
Upon thy gen'rous spirit and thy name. 

Though faithful to a proverb we regard 
The midnight Chieftain of the farmer's yard, 
Beneath whose guardianship all hearts rejoice, 
Woke by the echo of his hollow voice ; 
Yet as the Hound may fault'ring quit the pack, 
Snuff the foul scent, and hasten yelping back; 
And e'en the docile Pointer know disgrace, 
Thwarting the general instinct of his race; 
E'en so the Mastiff, or the meaner Cur, 
At times will from the path of duty err, 
(A pattern of fidelity by day: 
By night a murd&cr, lurking for his prey;) 



90 WINTER. 



A Sheep-biter by night. v. 225 



And round the pastures or the fold will creep, 
And, coward-like, attack the peaceful sheep. 
Alone the wanton mischief he pursues, 
Alone in reeking blood his jaws imbrues; 
Chasing amain his frightened victims round, 
Till death in wild confusion strews the ground.; 
Then wearied out, to kennel sneaks away, 
And licks his guilty paws till break of day. 

The deed discover'd, and the news once spread, 
Vengeance hangs o'er the unknown culprit's head : 
And careful Shepherds extra hours bestow 
In patient waichings for the common foe ; 
A foe most dreaded now, when rest and peace 
Should wait the season of the flock's increase. 

In part these nightly terrors to dispel, 
Giles, ere he sleeps, his little flock must tell. 
From the fire-side with many a shrug he hies, 
Glad if the full-orb'd Moon salute his eyes> 



WINTER. 91 



v. 243. Moonlight.. ..scattered clouds. 

And through th* unbroken stillness of the night 
Shed on his path her beams of cheering light. 
With sauntering step he climbs the distant stile, 
Whilst all around him wears a placid smile ; 
There views the white -rob'd clouds in clusters driven, 
And all the glorious pageantry of Heaven. 
Low, on the utmost bound'ry of the sight, 
The rising vapours catch the silver light; 
Thence Fancy measures, as they parting fly, 
Which first will throw its shadow on the eye, 
Passing the source of light; and thence away, 
Succeeded quick by brighter still than they. 
Far yet above these wafted clouds are seen 
(In a remoter sky, still more serene,) 
Others, detached in ranges through the air, 
Spotless as snow, and countless as they're fair ; 
Seatter'd immensely wide from east to west, 
The beauteous Semblance of a Flock at rest. 



92 WINTER. 



The Spectre. v. 261. 



These, to the raptur'd mind, aloud proclaim 
Their mighty Shepherd's everlasting Name. 

Whilst thus the loit'rer's utmost stretch of soul 
Climbs the still clouds, or passes those that roll* 
And loosM Imagination soaring goes 
High o'er his home, and all his little woes, 
Time glides away; neglected Duty calls; 
At once from plains of light to earth he falls, 
And down a narrow lane, well known by day, 
With all his speed pursues his sounding way, 
In + hought still half absorbed, and chill'd with cold; 
When lo ! an object frightful to behold 5 
A grisly Spectre, clothM in silver-gray, 
Around whose feet the waving shadows play, 
Stands in his path !...He stops, and not a breath 
Heaves from his heart, that sinks almost to death - 
Loud the Owl halloos o'er his head unseen ; 
All else is silent, dismally serene : 



WINTER. 05 



The Explanation. 



Some prompt ejaculation., whispered low, 
Yet bears him up against the threading foe ; 
And thus poor Giles, though half inclined to fly, 
Mutters his doubts, and strains hisstedfast eye. 
c 'Tis not my crimes thou com'st here to reprove ; 
' No murders stain my soul, no perjur'd love : 
'If thou'rt indeed what here thou seem'st to be, 
' Thy dreadful mission cannot reach to me. 
( By parents taught still to mistrust mine eyes, 
' Still to approach each object of surprise, 
« Lest Fancy's formful visions should deceive 

* In moon-light paths, or glooms of falling eve, 

' This then's the moment when my heart should try • 

* To scan thy motionless deformity; 

' But oh, the fearful task ! yet well I know 
' An aged Ash, with many a spreading bough, 
4 (Beneath whose leaves Pve found a Summer's bowY, 
4 Beneath whose trunk I've weather'd many a show'r,) 



94 W I N T E R. 



The terrors of surprise vanish on the use of recollection. v. 297. 

' Stands singly down this solitary way, 

' But far beyond where now my footsteps stay. 

' 3 Tis true, thus far Pve come with heedless haste ; 

' No reck'ning kept, no passing objects tracM:... 

' And can I then have reached that very tree? 

f Or is its reverend form assum'd by thee P 

The happy thought alleviates his pain : 

He creeps another step ; then stops again ; 

Till slowfy, as his noiseless feet draw near, 

Its perfect lineaments at once appear; 

Its crown of shiv'ringivy whispering peace, 

And its white bark that fronts the moon's pale face. 

Now, whilst his blood mountsupward, now he knows 

The solid gain that from conviction flows; 

And strengthened Confidence shall hence fulfil 

(With conscious Innocence more valued still) 

The dreariest task that winter nights can bring, 

By church-yard dark, or grove, or fairy ring; 



WINTER. 95 



v. 315. Counting of the Sheep in the fold. 

Still buoying up the timid mind of youth, 
Till loit'ring Reason hoists the scale of Truth. 
With these blest guardians Giles his course pursues, 
Till numbering his heavy-sided ewes, 
Surrounding stillness tranquillize his breast, 
And shape the dreams that wait his hours of rest. 

As when retreating tempests we behold, 
Whose skirts at length the azure sky unfold, 
And full of murmurings and mingled wrath, 
Slowly unshroud the smiling face of earth, 
Bringing the bosom joy: so Winter flies!... 
And see the Source of Life and Light uprise ! 
A heightening arch o'er southern hills he bends; 
Warm on the cheek the slanting beam descends, 
And gives the reeking mead a brighter hue, 
And draws the modest primrose bud to view. 
Yet frosts succeed, and winds impetuous rush,, 
And hail-storms rattle through the budding bush; 



96 WINTER. 



Turn of the Season towards Spring.. .Ewes and Lambs. v. 333. 

And night-faiPn Lambs require the shepherd's care. 
And teeming Ewes, that still their burdens bear; 
Beneath whose sides to-morrow's dawn may see 
The milk-white strangers bow the trembling knee; 
At whose first birth the pow'rful instinct's seen 
That fills with champions the daisied green : 
For Ewes that stood aloof with fearful eye, 
With stamping foot now Men and Dogs defy, 
And obstinately faithful to their young, 
Guard their first steps to join the bleating throng. 
But casualties and death from damps, and cold 
Will still attend the well-conducted fold : 
Her tender offspring dead, the Dam aloud 
Calls, and runs wild amidst th' unconscious crowd : 
And orphan'd sucklings raise the piteous cry; 
No wool to warm them, no defenders nigh. 
And must her streaming milk then flow in vain? 
Must unregarded innocence complain? 



W INTER. 97 



v. 351. Adopted Lambs: increase of the Flock. 

No;... ere this strong solicitude subside, 

Maternal fondness may be fresh applyM, 

And the adopted stripling still may find 

A parent most assiduously kind. 

For this he's doom'd awhile disguis'd to range, 

(For fraud or force must work the wish'd-for change;) 

For this his predecessor's skin he wears, 

Till, cheated into tenderness and cares, 

The unsuspecting dam, contented grown, 

Cherish and guard the fondling as her own. 

Thus all by turns to fair perfection rise; 
Thus twins are parted to increase their size: 
Thus instinct yields as interest points the way, 
Till the bright flock, augmenting every day, 
On sunny hills and vales of springing flowers 
With ceaseless clamour greet the vernal hours. 

The humbler Shepherd here with joy beholds 
Th/approv'd economy of crowded folds, 

H 



98 WINTER. 



The Triumph of Giles : the Flock passing by, and Year ending, v. 369. 

And, in his small contracted round of cares, 
Adjusts the practice of each hint he hears: 
For Boys with emulation learn to glow, 
And boast their pastures, and their healthful show 
Of well-grown Lambs, the glory of the Spring; 
And field to field in competition bring. 

E'en Giles, for all his cares and watchings past, 
And all his contests with the wintry blast, 
Claims a full share of that sweet praise bestow'd 
By gazing neighbours, when along the road, 
Or village green, his curly-coated throng 
Suspends the chorus of the Spinner's song; 
When Admiration's unaffected grace 
Lisps from the tongue, and beams in ev'ry face: 
Delightful moments .'...Sunshine, Health, and Joy, 
Play round, and cheer the elevated Boy! 
' Another Spring!' his heart exulting cries; 
'Another Year! with promis'd blessings rise!.... 



W I N T E R. 



99 



v. 387. 



Concluding Invocation. 



' Eternal Power ! from whom those blessings flow, 

f Teach me still more to wonder, more to know : 

1 Seed-time and Harvest let me see again ; 

' Wander the leaf-streivn wood, the frozen plain : 

' Let the first flower, corn-waving field, plain, tree, 

' Here round my home, still lift my soul to thee; 

' And let me ever, midst thy bounties, raise 

* An humble note of thankfulness and praise!'.., 

April 22, 1793. 




NOTES. 



AfavWite morsel with the Rook, #c. P. Q, 1. 104. 

In these verses, which have much of picturesque, there is a 
severe charge against Books and Crows, as very formidable 
depredators; and their destruction, as such, seems to be re- 
commended. Such was the prevalent opinion some years 
back. It is less general now : and I am sure the humanity 
of the Author, and his benevolence to Animals in general, 
will dispose him to rejoice in whatever plea can be orTered 
in stay of execution of this sentence. And yet more so, if 
it shall appear that Rooks, at least, deserve not only mercy, 
but protection and encouragement from the Farmer. 

I shall quote a passage from Bewick's interesting His- 
tory of Birds : the narrative part of which is often as full 
of information as the embellishments cut in wood are beauti- 
ful .... It is this. 

Speaking of Birds of the Pie-kind in general, he says, 
f< Birds of this kind* are found in every part of the known 
world, from Greenland to the Cape of Good Hope. In many 
respects they may be said to be of singular benefit to man- 
kind : principally by destroying great quantities of noxious 
insects, worms, and reptiles. Rooks, in particular, are fond 
of the erucae of the hedge- chaffer, or chesnut brown beetle'. 
for which they search with indefatigable pains. These in- 
sects," he adds in a note, "appear in hot weather in for- 
midable numbers : disrobing the fields and trees of their ver- 
dure, blossoms, and fruit; spreading desolation and destruc- 

* P. 6 3 . 



102 

tion wherever they go.. . .They appeared in great numbers 
in Ireland during a hot summer, and committed great ra- 
vages. In the year 1747 whole meadows and corn-fields 
were destroyed by them in Suffolk. The decrease of 
Rookeries in that County was thought to be the occasion of 
it. The many Rookeries with us is in some measure the 
reasou why we have so few of those destructive animals*. 

"Rooks," he subjoins, "are often aecus'd of feeding on 
the corn just after it has been sown, and various contrivan- 
ces have been made both to kill and frighten them away ; 
but, in our estimation, the advantages deriv'd from the de- 
struction which the}' make among grubs, earth-worms, and 
noxious insects of various kinds, will greatly overpay the in- 
jury done to ihe future harvest by the small quantity of corn 
they may destroy in searching alter their favourite foodt. 

M in general they are sagacious, active, and faithful to 
each other. They live in pairs; and their mutual attach- 
ment is constant. They are a clamorous race: mostly 
build in trees, and form a kind of society in which there ap- 
pears something like a regular government. A Centinel 
watches for the general safety, and gives notice on the ap- 
pearance of danger. " 

Under the Title, " Rooks, m (p. 71) Mr. Bewick re- 
peats Ills observations on the useful property of this Bird. 

I confess myself solicitous for their safety and kind treat- 
ment. We have two which were lam'd by being blown 

* Wallis's History of Northumberland. 
tMr. Bewick does not seem to have been quite aware that much of 
this mischief, as I have been informed by a sensible neighbouring Far- 
mer and Tenant, is done in the grub-state of the chaffer by biting through 
the roots of gras c , ;\'c. A latent, and imperceptibly, but rapidly spread- 
ing mischief, against which the rooks and birds of similar instinct are, 
in a manner, the sole protection. L, 



103 

down in a storm (a calamity which destroys great numbers 
almost every spring). One of them is perfectly domesti- 
cated. The other is yet more remarkable; since although 
enjoying his natural liberty completely, he recognizes, even 
in })\> flights at a distance from the house, his adoptive home, 
his human friends, and early protectors*. 

The Rook is certainly a very beautiful and very sensible 
Bird ; very confiding, and very much attach'd. It will give 
rae a pleasure, in which I doubt not that the Author of this 
delightful Poem will partake, if any tiling here said shall 
avail them with the Fanner; and especially with the Suf- 
folk Farmer. L. 



* I am fearful that they have both been hot this year. One yet U« 
mer than either was di owned. Nov. l8os. L. 



APPENDIX. 



When the First Edition of this Poem appear'd 
in March 1800, I intimated a design of accom- 
panying it with some Critical Remakks. 

The first of these will naturally be that 
which relates to the manner and circumstances of 
the Composition. There is such proof in it of 
Genius disregarding difficulty, and of powers of 
retention and arrangement, that it will be believM 
I could not overpass it : and that it would have 
been stated at the first if it had been then in my 
power to state it*. 

* The communication here introduced in the former edi- 
tions was by Mr. Swan; and relates to the retentive memory 
of the Author in composing, without committing to paper, 
the whole of his " Winter'' and great part of his " Autumn ;" 
a fact which is perhaps still worthy of being recorded; at 
the same time it is the Author's express wish that the Reader 
may, in this edition, be referred to a note in the 2d vol. page 
1£8, of Poem* by the late Hector Macneill, where it will 
at least be found that the boast belongs not wholly to him- 
self. He will find that "the beautiful ballad of 'Will and 
Jean,' — ' The Waes o' War,' — * The. Links o' Forth,' — and 
'The Scottish Muse,' were all compos'd by memory, previous- 
ly to the commitment of a single line to paper." 



106 APPENDIX. 

I now pass to part of what has been fully and 
excellently said by Dr. Drake of Hadleigh, 
while investigating the merits of this astonish- 
ing Rural Poem. 

In a letter from Hadleigh* Dr. Drake has 
given me this distinct and vivid representation 
of his general idea of the poem. 

" I have read The Farmer's Boy with a mix- 
"ture of astonishment and delight. There is a 
"pathetic simplicity in his sentiments and de- 
ascriptions that does hononr to his head and 
" heart. 

€i His copies from Nature are truly original 
"and faithful, and are touched with the hand of 
"a Master His versification occasionally dis- 
plays an energy and harmony which might 
" decorate even the pages of a Darwin. 

"The general characteristics of his Style, 
"however, are sweetness and ease. In short, I 
"have no hesitation in declaring, that I think it, 
" as a Rural and descriptive Poem, superior to any 
" production since the days of Thomson. 

" It wants no reference to its Author's unedu- 
" cated poverty to render its excellencies the more 
"striking; they are such as would confer dura- 
" ble Fame on the first and most polish'd Poet in 
"the Kingdom. 

* March 9, 1 800. 



APPENDIX. 107 

"I shall now take the liberty of extracting 
part of the Critique which Dr. Drake, agree- 
ably to his intimation to me, has made of the 
Farmer's Boy in his Literary Hours*. 

" From the pleasing duty of describing such 
"a character" (meaning the personal character 
of Mr. Bloomfield) " let us now turn our atten- 
tion to the species of composition of which his 
"Poem is so perfect a specimen. It has been 
""observed in my sixteenth number that Pasto- 
"ral Poetry in this country, with very few 
" exceptions, has exhibited a tame and serv ile ad- 
herence to classical imagery and costume; at 
"the same time totally overlooking that profu- 
sion of picturesque beauty, and that originality 
"of manner and peculiarity of employment, 
" which our climate and our rustics every where 
"present. 

" A few Authors were mentioned in that Es- 
"say as having judiciously deviated from the 
" customary plan: to these may now be added 
" the name of Bloomfidd ; the Farmer's Boy, though 
"not assuming the form of an Eclogue, being pe- 
culiarly and exclusively, throughout, a pastoral 
"Composition; not like the Poem of Thomson, 
"taking a wide excursion through all the phae- 
" nomena of the Seasons, but nearly limited to the 

* Vol. II. Ess. xxxix, p 444. 



108 APPENDIX. 

"rural occupation and business of the fields, the 
"dairy, and the farm-yard. 

"As with these employments, however, the 
"vicissitudes of the Year are immediately and 
"necessarily connected, Mr. Bloomfield has, 
"with propriety, divided his Poem into Four 
"Books, affixing to those Books the Titles of the 
" Seasons. 

" Such indeed are the merits of this Work, 
u that in true pastoral imagery and simplicity I 
" do not think any production can be put in com- 
petition with it since the days of Theocritus*. 

"To that charming simplicity which particu- 
" larizes the Grecian, are added the individuality f; 
"fidelity, and boldness of description, which 
" render Thomson so interesting to the lovers of 
" Nature. 

"Gesner possesses the most engaging senti- 
"ment, and the most refinM simplicity of man- 
" ners; but he wants that rustic wildness and nai- 
" vete in delineation, characteristic of the Sicilian, 
" and of the composition before us. 

* I have heard that the opinion of no less a Judge than 
Dr. Watson, Bishop of Llandaff, is by no means short 
of the encomium implied in this comparison, high and ample 
as it is. L. 

t Much of these qualities indeed is certainly in Theocri- 
tus also. L. 



APPENDIX: 103 

'■"Warner and Drayton have much to re- 
u commend them : but they are very unequal ; and 
" are devoid of the sweet and pensive morality which 
"pervades almost every page of the Farmers Boy; 
"nor can they establish any pretensions to that 
"fecundity in painting the ceconomy of rural 
"life, which this Poem, drawn from actual ex- 
perience, so richly displays. 

"It is astonishing indeed what various and 
"striking circumstances, peculiar to the occupa- 
tion of the British Farmer, and which are adapt- 
" ed to all the purposes of the pastoral Muse, had 
"escaped our Poets, previous to the publication 
"of Mr. Bloomfields Work. 

"Those who are partial to the Country; — and 
" where is the man of Genius who feels not a de- 
" light approaching to ecstasy from the contem- 
" plation of its scenery, and the happiness which 
" its cultivation diffuses? — those who have paid 
"attention to the process of husbandry, and who 
" view its occurrences with interest ; who are at 
"the same time alive to all the minutiae of the 
"animal and vegetable creation ; who mark 

1 How Nature paints her colours, how the Bee 
* Sits an the bloom, extracting liquid sweet/ 

" will derive from the study of this Poem a grati- 
fication the most permanent and pure/* 



110 APPENDIX. 

Dr. Drake after this, well accounts for the 
poetic singularity that the Poetry of Thomson 
should have past through a mind so enthusiasti- 
cally enamorM of it, without impairing the ori- 
ginality of its character, when exercised on a 
subject so much leading to imitation. This he 
explains, and justly, by the vivid impressions on 
a most sensible and powerful imagination in his 
earliest youth, anterior to the study of any Poet. 

Dr. Drake expresses his astonishment at the 
Versification and Diction of this Poem. And 
says most truly, " I am well aware that smooth 
and flowing lines are of easy purchase, and the 
property of almost ever}' poetaster of the day : 
but the versification of Mr. Bloom field is of an- 
other character; it displays beauties of the most 
positive kind, and those witcheries of expression 
which are only to be acquired by the united ef- 
forts of Genius and Study. 

" The general characteristics of his versifica- 
tion are facility and sweetness; that ease which 
is, in fact, the result of unremitted labour, and 
one of the most valuable acquisitions of litera- 
ture. It displays occasionally likewise a vigour 
and a brilliancy of polish that might endure 
comparison with the high-wrought texture of 
the Muse of Darwin. From the nature of his 
subject, however, this splendid mode of decora- 






APPENDIX. Ill 

tion could be us'd but with a sparing hand: and 
it is not one of his least merits that his diction 
and harmony should so admirably correspond 
with the scene which he has chosen. 

"To excel" Dr. Drake continues, "in rural 
Imagery, it is necessary that the Poet should di- 
ligently study Nature for himself; and not peruse 
her, as is but too common, ' through the spectacles 
of Books*. 3 He should trace her in all her wind- 
ings, in her deepest recesses, in all her varied 
forms. It was thus that Lucretius and Virgil, 
that Thomson and Cowper were enabled to un- 
fold their scenery with such distinctness and 
truth ; and on this plan, while wandering through 
his native fields, attentive to 'each rural sight, each 
rural sound? has Mr. Bloom field built his 
charming Poem. 

'It is a Work which proves how inexhausti- 
ble the features of the World we inhabit: how 
"from objects which the mass of mankind is daily 
" accustomed to pass with indifference and neglect, 
"Genius can still produce pictures the most fas- 
"cinating, and of the most interesting tendency. 
"For it is not to imagery alone, though such as 
"here depicted might ensure the meed of Fame, 

* The happy illustration of Dryden in his admirable 
: character of Shakespere. L. 



112 APPENDIX. 

"that the Farmer's Boy will owe its value with 
** us and with posterity. A Morality the most 
"pathetic and pure, the feelings of a heart alive 
"to all the tenderest duties of humanity and re- 
" ligion, consecrate its glowing landscapes, and 
" shed an interest over them, a spirit of devotion, 
"that calm and rational delight which the good- 
u ness and greatness of the Creator ought ever to 
"inspire." 

Dr. Drake confirms, by copious and very 
judicious Extracts from the various parts of the 
Poem, as they offer themselves to critical selec- 
tion, in accompanying the Farmer's Boy through 
the Circle of his year, the Judgment which he 
has form'd with so much ability, taste, and feel- 
ing, and has so agreeably expressed, of the Merits 
of our English Georgic. And he speaks in his 
third and last Essay on it thus: 

" From the review we have now taken of the 
Farmer's Boy, it will be evident, I think, that, 
owing to its harmony and sweetness of versifica- 
tion, its benevolence of sentiment, and originali- 
ty of imagery, it is entitled to rank very high in 
the class of descriptive and pastoral Poetry." 

He concludes with a highly animated and 
feeling anticipation of that public attention to the 
Poem and to its Author, merited in every view, 



APPENDIX. 113 

and which already has manifested itself in such 
extent. 

In the Critical Remarks I intended Ifmd my- 
self so much agreeing in ■ sentiment with Dr. 
Drake that I shall attempt little more than merely 
to offer some few observations. One of thes3 
relates to the coincidences of thought and manner 
in the Farmer's Boy with other writings. These, 
as would previously be expected from what has 
been said, are extremely few indeed. And al- 
most all that are particularly of moment in ap- 
preciating the poetical excellences of the Work 
are most truly coincidences, and cannot be other- 
wise considerM. 

For the first of these which I shall mention I 
am indebted to William Smith, esq. of Bury, 
who had largely his share of Public Admiration, 
when he sustained, for many years, with great 
skill and judgment, and great natural advantages, 
almost every character of our Drama which had 
been eminently favour'd by either Muse; and 
who now enjoys retirement with honour and 
merited esteem. 

He mentioned to me in conversation, and? 
since by Letter, a passage very closely resem- 
bling one in the Idyllia of Ausomius. It is this 
in Spring, 

i 



114 APT EN I) IX, 

Like the torn flower the fair assemblage fly. 
Ah, falien Rose / sad emblem of their doomj 
Frail as thyself, they perish while they bloom ! 

I. v . 333—40. 

The passage to which Mr. Smith referr'd me is 
this. (It is not in my Edition of Ausonius; but 
he sent me a Copy.) 

"Conquerimur, Natura, brevis quod Gratia florum est; 

" Ostentata oculis ilhco dona rapis. 
"Quam longa una dies aetas tarn longa rosarum, 
" Quas pubescentes juncta senecta premit." 

Id. xir. 

I am favor'd with a Translation made by Mr. 
Smith in his very early days. And hope that as 
a brother Etonian he allows me to quote it. 

Nature, we grieve that thou giv'st flowers so gay, 
Then snat chest Gifts thou shew'st so swift away. 
A Day's a Rose's Life. — How quickly meet, 
bweet Flower, thy Blossom and thy Winding Sheet I 

In the Procession of Spring there is a fine 
series of allegorical Images. 

Advancing Spring profusely spreads abroad 
Flowers of all hues, with sweetest fragrance stored: 
Where'er she treads Love gladdens every plain; 
Delight on tip-toe bears her lucid train; 



APPENDIX. 115 

: Sweet Hope with conscious brow foforeherfttea* 
Anticipating wealth from summer skies. 

I. v. 271—6. 

Compare now this of Lucretius, 

It Ver et Venus et Veneris pr&nuntius ante 
T*innatuLS graditur Zephyrus vestigia propter. 
Flora quibus Mater prsespergens, ante viai 
Guncta coioribus egregiis et odoribus opplet. 

De Nat. Res. L. V. v. 736—9. 
Ed Brindley 1749. 

There Spring, and Venus, and her Harbinger, 
Near to her moves the winged Zephyrus, 
For whom maternal Flora strews the way 
With Flowers of every charming scent and hew. 

Or in the very words of Bloom field, 

Flowers of all hues with sweetest fragrance stor'd. 

Flowers of all hues ; and without thorn the Rose. P. L. 

Hope here occupies the place of Zephyrus. 
Delight on tip-toe supporting the lucid train of 
Soring, — the image and attitude so full of life and 
oeauty, — is our Poet's own. And what Poet, 
what Painter , would not have been proud of it? 

In another passage, 

The splendid raiment of the Spring peeps forth 
• Her universal Green, ....*..«*.* • 



116 APPENDIX. 

This of Lucretius will be found to have muck 
similitude: 

Camposque per omnes 
Florida fulserunt viridanti prata colore. 

782, 3. 
O^er every plain 
The flowery meadows- beam -with verdant hue. 

And that exceedingly fine verse, 

All Nature feels her renovating sway, 

calls to mind the ever-memorable exordium of the 
Roman Poet. 

If we admire the imitative force of this line 
in the epic majesty of Virgilian numbers, 

Quadrupedanteputremsonitu qualit ungula campura: 

Shakes the resounding hoof the trembling plain : 

shall we not admire the imitative harmony of this ; 
attun'd certainly with not less felicity to the 
sweetness of the pastoral reed, 

The green turf trembling as they bound along. 

The pause on the first syllable cf the verse has 
been an admir'd beauty in Homer and Milton. 

Nl'J* by. <T £<nrot(r£v eyxo$. II. 

And over them triumphant Death his dart 
S|iook, but delaj'd to strike. P. L. 



APPENDIX. 117 

We have this beauty, — coinciding with the best 
examples, though underiv'd from them, — in a ca- 
dence of most pathetic softness. 

Joys which the gay companions of her prime 
Sip, as they drift along the stream of time. 

III. v. 169, 70. 

And this: 

Her tender offspring dead, the Dam aloud 
Calls, and runs wild amid th' unconscious crowd. 

IV. 345, 6. 

The beautiful Description of the Swine and 
Pigs feeding on fallen Acorns reminds me of a 
most picturesque one, not now at hand, in Gil- 
pin on Forest Scenery. 

The turn of this thought, 

Say not, I'll come and cheer thy gloomy cell, 

III. v. 241, &c. 

I believe is from Scripture. Prov. iii. 28. — And 
so I think certainly is that, 

Till Folly's wages, wounds and thorns, they reap. 

III. 37. 

But the most remarkable of all, and where I had 
no expectation of finding a similitude, is in near 
the close of the Winter. 



U8 APPENDIX. 

Far yet above these wafted clouds are seen 
(In a remoter sky, still more serene) 
Others, detach' d in ranges th rough the air, 
Spotless as snow, and countless as they're fair; 
Scatter'd immensely wide from east to west, - 
The beauteous 'semblance of a Flock at rest. 

IV. 255—60 

In Hercules the Lion-slayer there is this pass- 



TaJ' S7fY}XV$S TtlQVQL ^YjXOC, 

Ex £o1ccvYj$ aviovlcc psT ccvXia, Is er^scrls. 
Avlct{ eit&ilx toss, [AotXa (tv.gw ocXXoci sir' aXXcti§ 
E^ousmi fauyw§\utsrh NE$E"TAATOENTA 
'OccaT sv 8£otvcv eitri bXolvvoubvol irgahgspafc 
He Nohio £jtj r t s Sgrjuos Bocsoco. 
Twv [jlsvV if Us olc&vSjS ev r^ci yiysV lovlcuv, 
OvV C£kim£ m h<ra, yaoh \xi\0L rfgwhuri xvXivSsi 
'1$ olvsils, locSsV aXXoL KOgv<nreiai gcvSic sit' aXXoi$. 
Toe? oust u,ehrfi<r$s %owv sin GsxoXi r t st. 
JIolv $'ao £vetf\Yj<r&rj rfeSiov, itoLcroLils xeXevSoij 
Ayj'iSos eixopeyrtf. 

\HPAKA AEONTO$. 

Idyll. Theocrito adscriptum. Brunckii Analect. 

I. 360. 

On came the comely sheep, 

From feed returning to their pens and fold. 



APPENDIX. 119 

And these the Kine, in multitudes, succeed 5 

One on the other rising to the eye ; 

As watery Clouds which in the Heavens are seen, 

By Notus driven or Thracian Boreas: 

And y numberless, along the shy they glide, 

Nor cease ; so many doth the powerful Blast 

Speed foremost, and so many, fleece on fleece, 

Successive rise, reflecting varied light. 

So still the herds of Kine successive drew 

A far-extended line : and filPd the plain, 

And all the pathways, with the coming troop. 



I may possibly enlarge these Remarks in a 
future Edition; for it is pleasant to see these 
Coincidences with classic Poets of other days 
and Nations in a classic of our own, of the best 
School: 

" The fields his study, Nature was his booh." 

c. L. 

Tkoston, Aug. 22, 1800. 






ON REVISITING THE PLACE OF 
MY NATIVITY* 



Though Winter's frowns had dampt the beaming eye* 
Through Twelve successive Summers heav'd the sigh, 
The unaccomplish'd wish was still the same; 
Ti'l May in new and sudden glories came! 
My heart was rous'd ; and Fancy on the wing, 
Thus heard the language of enchanting Spring :.... 
' Come to dvy native groves and fruitful fields! 

* Thou know'st the fragrance that the wild-now'r yields; 
■ Inhale the Breeze that bends the purple bud, 

' And plays along the Margin of the Wood. 

* I've cloth'd them all ; the very Woods where thou 
' In infancy learn'd'st praise from every bough. 

* WouM'st thou behold again the vernal day 

* My reign is short ;. . . this instant come away : 

* Ere Philomel shall silent meet the morn; 

' She hails the green, but not the rip'ning corn. 

* Come, ere the pastures lose their yellow flow'rs: 
' Come now ; with heart as jocund as the hours.' 

Who could resist the call ?...that Giles had done, 
Nor heard the Birds, nor seen the rising Sun; 
Had not Benevolence, with cheering ray, 
And Greatness stoopt, indulgent to display 
Praise which does surely not to Giles belong, 
But to the objects that inspir'd his song. 
Immediate pleasure from those praises flow'd; 
Remoter bliss within his bosom glow'd ! 



122 

Now tasted all:... .for I have heard and seen 

The jong-remember'd voice, the church, the green;.. 

And oft by Friendship's gentle hand been led 

Where many a hospitable board was spread. 

These would I name.. ..but each, and all can feel 

What the full heart would willingly reveal : 

Nor needs be told ; that at each season's birth, 

Still the enamell'd, or the scorching Earth 

Gave, as each morn or weary night would come, 

Ideal sweetness to my distant home : 

Ideal now no more ;...for, to my view 

Spring's promise rose, how admirably true! 

The early chorus of the cheerful Grove 

Gave point to Gratitude, and fire to Love. 

O Memory! shield me from the World's poor strife; 

And give those scenes thine everlasting life ! 



ROBERT BLOOMFIELD. 



London, 
May, 30, 1800. 



Printed by J. Swan, 76, Fleet Street. 



BOOKS 

printed for 

VERNOR and HOOD, 

No. 31, Poultry, 

Hontiotu 



I. JJLOOMFIELD's RURAL TALES, BALLADS, and SONGS, 

with eleven wood cuts, in the following sizes, viz. 
Foolscap 8vo. price 45. 
Demy 8vo. price 55. 6d. 
Post 4to. price 103. 6cl. 

2. HUDIBRAS j an Heroic Poem, written in the Time of the late 
Wars, by Samuel Butler, esq. a new edition in i8mo. with twelve ele- 
gant wood cuts, by Nesbit, 3s. 6d. boards. 

3. VILLAGE SCENES, the PROGRESS of AGRICULTURE, 
and other Poems, by T. Bachelor, elegantly printed in foolscap 8vo. 
with a beautiful frontispiece, price 4s. boards. 

4. The PLEASURES of NATURE; or, the Charms of Rural 
Life j with other Poems, by David Carey, foolscap 8vo. price 4s, bds. 

5. The REIGN of FANCY, in Two Cantos, with other Poems, by 
David Carey, Author of the Pleasures of Nature, Foolscap 8vo. with 
plates, price 5s. boards. 

6. The CASTLE of OTRANTO ; a Gothic Story, by Horace 
WaJpole, Earl of Orford, with ten elegant engravings, cut in wood, by 
Branston, from Mr. Craig's designs, foolscap 8vo. price 4s. boards. 

7. SCENES of YOUTH} or, Rural Recollections, with other Poems, 
by Wxlliam Hollo way, foolscap 8vo. with an elegant frontispiece, 
price 4s. boards. 

8. The PEASANTS FATE} a Rural Poem, with Miscellaneous 
Pieces} by William Holloway, foolscap Uvo. with four beautiful 
plates, price 4s. boards. 

9. The JUDGE ; or, an Estimate of the Importance of the judicial 
Character; a Poem, in Three Cantos, by the Rev. Jerome Alley, 
foolscap 8vo, price 4s. 6d. boards 5 or on a post 8vo. price 73, boards. 



Booh printed for Vernor and Hood, No, 31, Poultry. 

10. The NEW BATH GUIDE; or, Memoirs of the B— n— r— A 

Family, in a Series of Poetic Epistles, by Mr. Ainstie, a new edition, 
with ten wood cuts, by Branston, from designs by Mr. Craig, 3s. 6d. 
boards. 

11. The POETICAL MAGAZINE; or, Temple of the Muses ; 
containing a collection of original Poems, by eminent living Authors, 
never before published, 2 vols, duodecimo, ornamented with twelve 
beautiful engravings, price 12 s. boards. 

12. The TEMPLE of the FAIRIES, containing a choice Selection 
of Tales, translated from the French, and illustrated with wood en- 
gravings, by Lee, price 6s. board-s. 

13. STEVENS^ LECTURE on HEADS, with Additions by Mr. 
Pilon and Mr. Lee Lewis ; to which is added, an Essay on Satire, 
ornamented w<th forty-seven caricature plates, cut in wood, by Nesbit, 
from Thurston's designs, price 3s. sewed. 

14. CLIFTON GROVE, a Sketch in Verse; with other Poems ; 
by Henry Kirke White, foolscap 8vo. dedicated to the Duchess of 
Devonshire, price 3s. 6d. boards. 

15. The ECONOMY of HUMAN LIFE, foolscap Svo. with 
thirty-two wood cuts, by Austin, from Mr. Craig's designs, 4s. boards. 

The same Work in j8mo. 2s. 6d. boards. 

16. A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY through FRANCE and 
ITALY, by the Rev. Lawrence Sterne, elegantly printed on fine vel- 
lum foolscap 8vo. with sixteen wood cuts by Austin, from the designs 
of W. Crai^, esq. price 5s. boards. 

17. BEAUTIES of HISTORY; or, Pictures of Virtue and Vice, 
drawn from the Examples of Men eminent for their Virtues, or infa- 
mous for their Vices, by the late W. Dodd, LLD. greatly enlargd, by 
Stephen Jones, nmo. thirty-two wood cuts, 4s. bound. 

18. HOOLE'sTASSO's JERUSALEM DELIVERED, 2 vols. Svo. 
with beautiful frontispieces, price 7s. boards. 

The same Work, large Svo. 12s. boards. 

19. PAUL and VIRGINIA, an interesting and beautiful T.le, 
founded on Facts, translated fiom the French of St. Pierre, by Helen 
Maria Williams, a new edition, with five elegant plates, by Richter, 1 
price 5s. boards. /J 

20. The LIFE of PETRARCH, by Mrs. Dobson, 2 vols. 8vo. with M 
eight beautiful plates, 16s. boards. — Royal 8vo. first impressions, ^J 
ll. is. boards. 

21. POETRY, chiefly in the Scottish Language, by Robert Couper, 
MD. author of the Tourifications of Malachi Meldrum, 2 vols, fools- 
cap 8vo. 103. 6d. boards. 



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